A Mare's Flue
by CamperMan501
Summary: What if one of the most violent video game characters somehow managed to find himself in a world of magical ponies? M because of Alex Mercer. Will contain mild swearing and some graphic blood and gore. No parings planned. Uses other universes sometimes.
1. Prologue: It Began With Two Accents

**A/N: Okay, first of all this story is set at the beginning of the show and from then onwards. It is a what if that includes elements more than just Alex Mercer, a multi verse if you will. Events will change and character backgrounds might be filled in for characters that are just in the background of the show most of the time. Also, the content in this prologue do not reflect my actual beliefs and I am sorry if I offend anyone of a certain culture. I do not own anything in this story and they belong to their respectful owners. **

**I hope you enjoy :)**

_**A Mare's Flu**_

_**Prologue: It Began With Two Accents**_

Far away from the cosmos that we call home is a place outside time, space and matter. A place that mortal minds can only dream of as they wonder deeply about the mysteries of the next life. A place that some mortals, who shake their heads at the ideas of a higher, unseen power, do not believe in.

What is this place that I speak of? Some call it heaven; some call it hell and some call it...Well, whatever you prefer, it is the place where the gods, of all beliefs and religions, come to pass judgement on all the departed souls. To all of the eternal beings who came to collect the souls of their believers, they called the place that I speak of 'Death's Court'. And this is where our story starts, on that fateful day that changed the lives of many souls forever.

That day didn't start as it usually did at Death's Court. True, the many Gods arrived at Death's home. The main room was still round in shape and the walls were made of dark smoke and the mangled bodies of those who lived with no belief, passion or life. The many rows of podiums that lined against the wall, that circled the middle of the room, were still black as the night, the darkest being the highest podium that towered over the rest, the podium of Death himself.

But as each god took their place, they started to notice something strange about Death. For one, his face wasn't sunken in and hollow. On the contrary, his face was young, round and cheerful. His hair was also not its usual wispy grey. No, it was light brown and short as cut grass. Another blatantly obvious difference was that he wasn't wearing his black, pinned striped suit. Quite the opposite, he had a colourful silk waistcoat which covered a black shirt, while a deerstalker hat was sitting on the edge of his podium.

Before any of the Gods could address this, the being standing in Death's podium cleared his throat and began to speak.

"'Allo, ladies and gentlemen, glad you all could make it."

Cockney

Out of his strange appearance and clothes, this proved to the gods that this wasn't Death.

Death. Wasn't. Cockney.

The tumult was deafening, the noise that would shatter the very bodies of mortals, as the immortals showed their outrage.

"Who are you and where is Death?" Cried a bearded god, whose hands were crackling with electricity as lightning bolts appeared in his hand.

"How dare you mock us and Lord Death!" Roared a deity who had a huge elephant head, who banged his fist upon the edge of his podium.

"Where are the souls of my subjects?!" Shouted an old warrior god, whose only eye was burning with rage.

But amidst the verbal chaos of deities demanding for answers and souls, one being was still calm and collected. With a subtle yet powerful ease, he raised his hand and said, in a relaxing and charismatic tone, "Peace, fellow gods, peace." Surprisingly, the other deities quelled their tempers and silence fell instantly. When all eyes turned to the speaker, he spoke again in his soothing yet instructing voice. "Perhaps it would be better if we let our dear friend explain himself, rather than pointlessly argue."

The being standing on Death's podium, who looked flustered from trying to make his voice heard over the tumult, sighed in relief. "Ta, Mister Buddha, sir." The Buddha nodded politely to the cockney man. After a moment of nervous hesitation, the man cleared his throat and began to address the crowd of impatient deities.

"Well, umm, ladies and gents, my name's Mulberry. Sorry about the confusion, I know you were expecting my dad..."

"Mulberry," interrupted the white bearded god. "Aren't you the son of Spring, the cousin of my brother's wife, Persephone?"

"Yes," nervously replied the cockney man. "But that's not really..."

But he was interrupted again, this time by the one eyed god, who boomed, "Does that mean you are that bastard child we thought dead, born from the intercourse that Death and Spring denied had ever occurred?"

Mulberry raised an eye brow and folded his arms. "Oi," he grumbled in a peeved tone, "there's no need for the word bastard, umm...Odin, innit? True, ma and pa ain't married, but that's not the point. I'm here because my pa passed his job to me..."

_Boy, what a rude bunch, _thought Mulberry, as the elephant headed god slammed his fist onto the podium again. "This is an outrage; I thought Yama was supposed to take the mantle of Death after Ankou had stepped down!"

"No, Ganesha," Growled Odin as he glared at Mulberry. "The agreement was that Zeus' brother, Hades, was next. Then Hel, my niece, Osiris and finally Yama. This...Mulberry has no right to assume the mantle of Death!"

This was met with many cries of approval, nods of agreement and many sour looks that were aimed at the poor son of Death. Mulberry sighed and shook his head. He had expected this to happen, knew that his father's brash actions would land him in hot water. He saw this very scene in his mind eye when his dad explained to him the truth, that the title of Death was usually cycled around the gods instead of being handed down from father to son.

When the cockney boy asked his pa about why he was giving him the title, breaking the rules that the gods had made many years ago, he replied. "Most of the other gods of death are just stuck up ponces. They use the position of Death to grab more souls for their religion's heaven or hell, even if the soul never believed in the religion in the first place. Most of the older gods do it, since most of their religions either died out or got bumped to the sidelines by Christianity. The current system has only been fair because the big cheese made me, a lonely Grim Reaper, Death. And though you're the worst Grim Reaper that ever existed, you've a just heart and an annoying persistence that will stop the others from bullying you."

Mulberry's dad had then given him a light hug, and whispered that no matter what happened he would always be proud of his son. And that memory was what gave Mulberry the confidence that was rising in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he glared down at the other deities with a cheery grin on his face.

"Well it's a shame for Hades, 'cause my dad gave me his mantle and apparently that means it's final." His tone was not mocking or conniving, but it wasn't as upbeat as it usually was. He kept his seemingly happy posture as the other gods began to shout once more.

"You're father has no right to give you the crown of Death," growled Zeus. "My brother was chosen to be next, as we agreed..."

"Like I said," cut in Mulberry, shrugging as he did so. "A shame for him and the others. But pa's got the approval of the big cheese, and that's final...apparently."

After those words, silence fell. Mulberry knew that he had won. All of the Gods knew that they had no choice but to let the cockney man be the judge. Ever since the...'big cheese' had done what he did, his power and influence had far over taken the other gods. Odin, Zeus and Ganesha dropped their assault, keeping their bitter thoughts to themselves. Buddha, along with the calmer gods, bowed their heads in acknowledge; as they could clearly tell that Mulberry himself had had no say in the matter either.

Though that was the case, Mulberry was kept going by the need to make his father proud. He would not mess up.

With peace now restored, the cockney being turned his eyes to the centre of the room. The pin point of his gaze was fixed upon a giant, water coloured crystal that was as tall as the court itself. Some Gods called it the River Styx or the Weight of Justice—the point being that this crystal is where all departed souls go after their body expired. They were guided to the crystal by the Grim Reapers and he, Death, had to decide which soul belonged to which god so they could pass judgement on the soul. Or if the soul belonged to no religion, banish them into the wall of the court room, aka Limbo. That was something Mulberry didn't want to do.

Gathering his wits, the new cockney Death took another deep breath and—

"Oh, am I late?"

Of all that could have happened, none of the gods could have expected what came next. Not even Mulberry, as he turned his eyes to the source of the voice; thinking that he had just heard a scouse accent.

Whatever accent it was, the son of Death was still in for a slight shock. Standing at the entrance of the courtroom was a thin, lanky middle age man. He had long blonde hair that reached to his hips at the back of his head, while his fringe was completely shaved. This left his forehead in plain sight, not to mention his lazy left eye, which was amber, and his completely normal eye, which was sea blue. Another strange feature about his face was that his lips seemed stitched, like there were invisible needles that were holding his broad smile in place. And his clothes...well, they were bizarre! He wore a suit that had black-scaly shoulders and furry-brown sleeves, along with red feathered trousers and a green-shell patterned tank top.

As all the deities stared at the new arrival, baffled and confused by his appearance, the stranger put his hands on his hips and asked, in a thick scouse accent. "What 'u staring at?" He then took a glance behind himself. "No, seriously, what are 'u staring at? My vision ain't exactly—Dag nabit!" The stranger cried out in exasperation, as his sea blue eye suddenly went out of focus like his lazy eye. "Stupid things, they always do this no matter what form I'm in!"

While he began to slap both of his temples, the gods continued to gaze at the bizarre scouse being. Only gods were allowed in Death's Court and like Mulberry, none of the deities recognised the newcomer.

"Hold on," he muttered triumphantly. "I just need to look out the corner of my eyes..." Straightening up, with a pained look on his face, the weird man's eyes began to centre themselves. "Boss, now I can see..." He stopped, his eyes darting around the room with distain. "Wow, yews are butt ugly." He didn't even try and lower his voice or hide the amazement in his voice. "And I thought my form sucked, yews look like Michael Jackson after he turned white!" When no one retorted, as they all began to summon their anger, the scouse man quietly asked, "Too soon?"

For a third time, the court of gods burst into a chorus of rage. Not even the Buddha could calm the swarm of angry deities as they shouted and screamed, "Who are you!?" "How dare you mock the Gods!" "Identify yourself, Liverpudlian!" "What's a Liverpudlian?!"

During this stifling commotion, Mulberry managed to make his voice heard. "Jackson didn't look that bad."

Despite the tumult, the stranger somehow managed to hear the cockney accented voice above all the others. Turning his eyes, which had both gone out of focus again, towards Death's podium, he replied incredulously, "Did you see his nose? It looked like it was gonna fall off!" He paused for a second. "Wait...Since when was Death...Cockney?"

"I'm his son," explained Mulberry, in a friendly tone (which was barely audible over the noise). "He gave me his title 'cause he needs a rest."

"Not surprised," chortled the stranger, giddily. "I would need a break after looking at all these putrid mugs. And is it just my eyes, or does one of them actually have an elephant head?" After Mulberry nodded, the scouse man's smile grew. "Well, I must say, he's the handsomest of the lot!"

This did not flatter Ganesha, whose grey- elephant skin began to blotch red with fury. Grinding his tusks together, the Hindu god glared at the newcomer and bellowed, louder than the rest, "FOR THE LOVE OF MY STRENGTH AND BROTHERS, WHO ARE YOU!" His voice quietened the other gods, at the price of making every ear ring with pain.

The blonde man rubbed his ears, his mismatch eyes spinning in all directions. "Geez, luv, no need to shout." His tone, though irritated, seemed to have an absent minded quality about it. At first, due to the noise and the thickness of the accent, Mulberry hadn't notice this subtle quality of the stranger's voice. But now he did, there was an unease that was tingling down his spine. Others may equate the stranger's voice to his clothes and apparent attitude, either carelessly ignorant or naively stupid. But the son of Death knew a thing or two about playing the fool, using his charm and humour to hide or evade suspicion. It was because of this that the stranger's absent minded undertone of his voice, along with his lazy eyes and whacky dress code, came across more...conniving, secretive and deceiving.

Mulberry barely had any more time to speculate the Stanger's intentions, when the said scouser—with his eyes still pointing the wrong way—aimed his face in the direction of Ganesha. "Alright, elephant head..." The said god scowled. "...I'll tell you who I am." The stranger, while all the gods gazed at him, suddenly bent his knees like he was about to jump. He stayed in this position for a few long seconds, his face screwed up in concentration. Then, with his eyes still closed, he turned his head to stare at his own, bare back. "Wait a second," he muttered slowly and dimwittedly. "I don't have wings in this form."

He cursed in a low undertone; the exact words he used were somehow unable to reach the ears of the gods. Straitening up, he started scratching his blonde haired head. It didn't take long before an idea seemed to spring into his questionable absent mind. Grinning with pure giddiness, the stranger raised a hand to his mouth and, to the shock of his audience, pulled it clean from his face. There was no blood, but the gaping hole above the Stanger's chin managed to unsettle the gods with the weakest stomachs.

Completely unnerved by his own rather gruesome action, the blonde stranger aimed his eyes in two different directions, raised the hand that held his mouth and threw it at Ganesha. The Hindu god didn't flinch as the incoming mouth landed on the edge of his podium. Nor did he react when the lips stared to move on their own, the scouser's voice flowing from them like they were still attached to his face. "Ah, there's no better way of sending a message than by word of mouth. Okay, you handsome bastard, lean in so I can tell you what you want to know."

At these words, Ganesha's eyes seemed to flicker with anticipation. While trying to keep his composer, the god slowly lowered his grey skinned ears to the unattached mouth. For a few seconds, as his ginormous ears hung a few inches above the lips, there was only silence. Then...

"It's none of your damn business."

These whispered words barely reached the god's ears before the stranger's mouth suddenly burst into a cloud of bubbles. Ganesha, with the speed of a bullet, snapped his ears and tusks away from the sudden wave of soap bubbles; fearing that the little water spheres would cause some unexplainable rash if they touched his greying skin. But all they did, as they floated past the god's trunk, was burst into nothingness; not even leaving a speck of flying water on the wood of Ganesha's podium.

After a few seconds, after every god stared at the place where the bubbles had popped, immortal eyes were turned back to the Stanger. A mouth had appeared on his face, which had the same stitched smile quality about it, but the lips were now smeared a lightning yellow, rather than a pale red. The scouse man, seemingly unaware that Ganesha was hurling daggers from his reddening eyes, spun his defocused eyes in Mulberry's direction. "Alright, lad, let's get down to b..."

But once more, the ears of all the gods were harassed by the bellowing cry of the god of strength. "DON'T IGNORE ME!" Cried Ganesha; his voice seemingly reverberating off the walls of the courtroom a thousand times. "I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO...!"

"I TOLD YOU!" Suddenly roared the stranger who turned his face—which was now etched with irritation—towards the elephant headed god. His eyes were now centred properly and gleaming with annoyance, though his smile was still unnaturally plastered above his chin. "I'M REINCARNATION, DUMBO!" His eyes then lazily spun out of focus again and his brief anger vanished in a flash. Shaking his head, the so called Reincarnation muttered, "Wow, I never thought that that Disney movie would hold water. Elephants_ are_ airheads."

Ganesha would have let lose his temper again if his mind wasn't occupied with the same questions that all of the gods in the room had. His name is Reincarnation? But how can that be? The idea of a mortal being given a new life after they had died was as old as the gods themselves. While it perplexed the gods of Death and Death himself (that being Mulberry); this revelation managed to get under the skin of many immortal beings, the Buddha being one of the many. Even though this didn't anger him that this stranger dared to use a belief of his own religion, it still seemed odd that he had never heard of a being whose name suggested that he governs an idea that was a part of many old religions.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation—in which the blonde scouser closed his eyes and began snoring, swaying two and through while his feet stayed planted on the floor—Mulberry broke the silence. Keeping his tone cheerfully curious, though cheerful he was not, the new Death asked, "Excuse me, but how does that work, exactly? 'Cause I know for a fact that most of these here gents..." He pointed at the Buddha as an example. "...'Ave reincarnation, rebirth..."

But the cockney lord of Death stopped, his sentence trailing away as he noticed that Reincarnation was still asleep; his eyes shut closed while his little 'z' started floating from his open mouth. Mulberry was about to try and wake the scouser up, when the said blonde raised a sleepy hand into the air. "ZZZ...Carry...on..." he mumbled; saliva dripping from the edge of his lip. "I'm...ZZZ...Listening..."

_I highly doubt that, mate. _Thought Mulberry as he watched the raised hand fall lazily back to Reincarnation's side. But for some reason, the new lord of Death decided to carry on anyway. "Like I was saying, most religions 'ave reincarnation as a part of the belief. How can you claim to be the God of Reincarnation when no god has ever heard of you?"

"Market Research, my lad."

Mulberry eyes widened a little as he was both surprised that the blonde scouser had replied so quickly after seemingly being so drowsy and by the answer the man had given. He wasn't the only one. Every God glared down at the bizarrely dressed being, whose face was still holding a wooden smile—that only Mulberry could see— and a pair of lazy, dysfunctional eyes.

After straightening his brown furred and black scaled suit, Reincarnation cleared his throat, licked his yellow lips and began to explain what he meant, in his absent minded tone of voice. "Ya see, the big cheese up top..." He pointed a finger to the floor. "...Saw that many mortals who believe in Reincarnation are mostly atheists. So not only were they ignoring the cheese, but they were ignoring Mr Buddha over there." He nodded in the Buddha's direction; whose eyes widened with concern. "By the way, how are you here? You are technically not a –ANYWAY... So, 'cause he's such a compassionate old fuss pot, he pulled me outta some cloud formations and gave me the position of 'God who is a God of a non-religious belief which is believed by people who want a free gender change'." Reincarnation bit the edge of his smiling lip, his brow wrinkled in disappointment. "Not that I don't mind being created and all, but after getting a head for universal accents I am a bit pissed that I wasn't given a Welsh accent. A sing song voice fits a God who sorts out if a mortal comes back as a panda or a lemur, don't you agree?"

This question fell upon unimpressed ears, as the Gods all looked down distastefully at Reincarnation. For most of them, even the Buddha, felt a twinge of anger that the 'big cheese' had used his power and authority to undermine them again. The souls of atheists were the most flexible souls to take. Unknown to Mulberry, whose father had never told him what happens after a non-believer is cast into the walls of the courtroom, the Gods secretly fought over the souls in the wall of Limbo.

If an atheist has led a barren life, or a life not fully lived at all, then a soul like that get's neglected and left in the wall. But if a soul has been good and pure, then the Gods fight over the right to bring that soul into their heaven. Once a single deity has taken a pure soul, then it is theirs to own. But if there was ever a soul who never believed in any god and had committed heinous acts of sin and murder...then the gods would pull that soul apart. And as each god took each piece, torn uncaringly from the black soul, they would take it to their respective hell. The torn, broken soul would then spend eternity experiencing the torments of a thousand, different hells.

And now this God, Reincarnation, seemingly had power over the souls that in the past have been up for grabs. Sure, not every mortal believed in reincarnation...but no god knew how many did.

While the Gods brooded over this, Mulberry broke the silence by answering Reincarnation's question. "It does sound like the perfect accent for you..." The corners of Reincarnation's smile seemed to extend further in appreciation of Death's comment. "...If you really are who you say you are."

While his stitched smile remained, the blonde's eyes seem to swivel in irritation in all directions. "Oi, are you calling me a fibber? Are you such a divvy that you can't tell the symbolism in my get up?" He then began prodding individual parts of his clothes, his voice somehow staying very absentminded while having an angry undertone that didn't seem natural, like it was forced. "These phoenix-feathered trousers symbolise rising from the ashes. This shell patterned shirt is like a turtles shell, that it's...umm...Round! Like the circle of life. And this snake skin is about...umm... shedding it off for something new underneath...I think. And these monkey-fur sleeves show...umm...Evolution."

Needless to say, Mulberry wasn't impressed. While the rest of the Gods just snorted at Reincarnation's apparent naivety, the cockney man felt like the blonde was just trying to change the subject. "Not to be rude," began Mulberry in a civil tone. "But I don't wear my waistcoat for symbolism. It's because I like waistcoats."

"And I have a fetish for symbolist clothing," replied Reincarnation, with a shrug. "It's not the weirdest fetish I have, but it's still a fetish."

"But how do you know about fetishes?"

This question made the scouser's wide smile, for the first time before the God's eyes, falter. It only happened for a second and only a few immortals saw it, but it still happened. Quick to make up for his tell, Reincarnation hurriedly mumbles, "What do you mean?" His voice still sounded a bit slow-witted, but the nervous undertone sounded more real than the other undertones.

"Well, if you were really made from clouds by the big cheese, then you shouldn't have a set personality, tastes or likes. My dad, the old Death, was originally a Grim Reaper created from stone by a god who had the title of Death at the time. It took him a good century of experiencing the world of mortals and interacting with the other deities before he got a personality. Even my personality was shaped by experience, and I was born naturally. Well, as naturally as it comes to deity birth, anyway. My point is, if you were made from clouds by the big cheese, how can you know that you prefer a Welsh accent rather than a scouser accent."

"I poked around the country a couple years back," explained Reincarnation, whose eyes were spinning nervously in different directions again.

"Then why didn't you announce your presence to the other Gods before now?" Mulberry, out of the corner of his eye, saw that Odin was giving him a look that you give a hypocrite. Realising this, the cockney man turned to the one-eyed god and quickly added, "My Dad didn't want my existence known to you gents because he originally planned for me to be just a Grim Reaper..." Odin scoffed in disbelief. "...But 'Reincarnation' here was made by the big cheese. Why would he wait to send a new God that should already be implanted with the information to perform his role?"

This was a fair point, a point that made the blonde scouser gulp silently. Every God starred down at Reincarnation, their questioning looks now seemingly had the power to unnerve the lonely newcomer. Reincarnation opened his mouth, words were about to escape from his tongue before he closed his mouth and hung his head low in shame. "Fine," he grumbled; his tone now oozing a genuine sadness while still carrying a bit of naivety. "I admit it..." He looked up at Mulberry, his lazy eyes brimming with slight tears. "...I was searching for an atheist soul who believed in me."

This was not what Mulberry had been expecting. Nor was it what the other Gods had excepted, but it still got them into another, scandalous rage. "How dare you try and steal the soul of a living mortal," cried Odin; his words echoed by many. Searching for a soul was not allowed. Only Grim Reapers were lawfully allowed to collect souls, but only if the mortal where the soul had come from was dead. And even then, the only creatures that stole souls from the living were demons. They may belong to a certain religion or God, but if they were caught with an illegal soul then that demon would be punished, sent back to hell where they belong.

Reincarnation looked offended by the accusation. Aiming his eyes at Odin—or at least tried to aim them at Odin—the blonde put his hands on his hips and crossly replied, "Hey, I did not steal a soul from a living mortal. Just because I'm liverpudlian, doesn't mean I'm a thief. That's the Welsh. But the point is the guy was dead as a squashed rat. Though, his soul was odd..."

"What do you mean odd?" Asked Mulberry, curiously.

"The soul was trying to latch itself onto some black mortal," explained the scouser. "I found it odd because the soul that was trying to connect with the black mortal's soul was from a person the black mortal had clearly smashed into pieces with his bare fists." Reincarnation then raised a hand and began to grope the inside of one of his suit's pockets. "Give me a minute," he muttered, in a slow tone. "I have it right...there!"

And with a flourish, Reincarnation pulled out a small, red bottle. Mulberry recognised it at once, having once been a Grim Reaper. While the object was different for each Reaper, each could tell a Soul Carrier from a mile off. These devices were a way of carry vast numbers of souls at once. Before their invention, a Grim Reaper had to carry one soul at a time and had to use an annoying check list to do so. With a soul carrier, it only took a few seconds to use it and more souls got transported to Death's Courtroom faster. Sure it was at the cost of organisation, but every Reaper had the same thought when the soul carrier was introduced: _To hell with organisation._

"So..." said the scouser cautiously. "...Do you mind I give you the soul to judge, Mr Cockney? I know what I did was wrong, but I wanted to be certain that I would get a soul so I can test my powers." His smile, which still looked stitched up, widened to the point where it could easily fly off his face. His eyes were also glistening with plea, though they were still looking in the directions away from Mulberry.

The new Death didn't reply for a long while, his ears deaf to the words that were thrown at him from the objective opinions of the Gods. _Hmm..._Thought Mulberry, solemnly. _I don't see why it would be a bad thing to accept the soul. All I have to do is put it into the crystal and examine the soul. Since he personally picked it, I would just give it back to him and he would do what he will with it. But why didn't he just say that in the beginning, why was he determined to hide the soul and delay about telling us his name? And if he's telling the truth, then the soul ain't normal if it was trying to latch onto another soul. _

Mulberry, after careful consideration, looked down at Reincarnation. After taking a deep breath, he spoke, in an attempt at a deep and professional tone, and said: "Fine, Reincarnation. I will examine your soul. Please empty the contents of your Soul Catcher into the Weight of Justice." He pointed at the towering crystal that was looming out of the centre of the room. The cockney man ignored the harsh glares that were coming from the horde of Gods that surround him, who were all questioning the decision that was made.

Reincarnation, on the other hand, let out a squeal of glee. Brandishing his Soul Catcher, the blonde scouser ran towards the Weight of Justice. For a second, it looked like he was about to run past the giant crystal. He kept on tripping over his own feet, while amazingly keeping some kind of balance, and his obviously terrible vision caused him to run in a zigzag. But surprisingly, he reached the crystal safely.

As the scouser began to pull the stopper out of the bottle, a thought struck Mulberry. "Wait," he suddenly cried out. "How did you get that soul catcher?"

"Where everyone gets their supernatural artefacts, my lad," replied Reincarnation; his voice carrying a smug undertone.

"E-Bay."

And before anything else was said, Reincarnation poured the contents of his bottle onto the crystal. The moment the soul touch the water coloured crystal, the parts it touch turned red, blood red. And like a bleeding wound, the colour spread all over the crystal. And as every inch turned crimson, a smell started to appear out of nowhere, growing stronger the darker the crystal turned. The smell wasn't new to the Gods, but never had they smelt it from the crystal. The smell of sin.

While the Gods began to mutter amongst themselves, Reincarnation was stepping away from the Weight of Justice, his foot work goofier than a drunk. "Damn," muttered the blonde, dumbly. "I don't remember the soul smelling so bad. I mean..." He took a sniff, his eyes cringing with distaste. "...It's all just violence, murder and more violence. Where's the lust to spruce things up? Did this guy even have a sex life?"

Mulberry didn't remark the scouser's comment. He was having too much trouble trying to read the person's soul correctly. It didn't help that this was the first time he had tried to read a soul, since he had been given the power by his father, but the pure pollution of sin was clouding even an image of the mortal; which apparently appeared when a soul was being examined.

After a few minutes of staring into the thick, crimson clouds, a voice appeared out of nowhere, catching Mulberry by surprise. "Hey, do you need help, Mr Cockney?"

Odin laughed at the question, his single eye peering mockingly at Reincarnation. "You fool, only Death can examine souls. And even then, he sometimes has trouble reading one, measly soul." Those last, venomous words were clearly aimed at Mulberry; and he didn't miss a single one.

Reincarnation folded his arms, trying to get his eyes to aim an irritated glare. When that failed, he simple shrugged his shoulders and stated, "Correction, scone 'ead. You and the other Gods can't examine souls, until at least you're handed them for being a good boy." Ignoring the furious glare from Odin, the blonde turned and faced the red crystal; his smiling face turned passive and unreadable. Suddenly, his eyes began to spin around and around in their sockets, until they finally centred. The amber and sea blue eyes were now aimed perfectly at the crystal.

"Ok..." he muttered, dumbly and slowly. "I think I can see the image of the mortal's body...Yep; he's wearing a plain grey hoody and a black jacket. And he's ugly as hell. Damn, he looked better when his face was smeared over the floor."

The shock that ran through the Gods was like lightning. Mulberry himself, while still recovering from the shock, looked back at the crystal. After raking his eyes over the entire crystal, the cockney deity managed to make out an image that wasn't totally shrouded in red. "...He doesn't look that bad..." mumbled Death; as realisation came crashing upon him. It wasn't as bad as the feeling that was coursing through the minds of every God who realised the truth along with Mulberry.

As if sensing the question that was about to be asked, Reincarnation—without taking his eyes off the Weight of Justice—casually answered the unasked question; his tone still ringing with a naivety that didn't match his words. "As Reincarnation, I need to examine souls in close detail. I need to manually evaluate the mortal's form, memory and personality. For what's the point of giving a mortal new life if they live exactly like they did before. And it's the small things that counts, not the overall appearance." With his eyes still fixed in place, showing no sign of the laziness they had before, the blonde addressed Mulberry, saying, "Now, like I said before. Do you need my help, Mulberry?"

It was how the absent minded tone vanished from the scouser's voice when he uttered Death's name that caused Mulberry to silently agree to Reincarnation's offer. The other Gods couldn't see why Mulberry had accepted the blonde's help, for they only saw him as a fool; as if they hadn't heard the sudden seriousness in his past few words. But the cockney deity had always been suspicious of the lazy eyed being; for he sensed that something was hidden behind the stitched smile that seemed fake in his eyes. This agreement was a dangerous one. He didn't know what was in store for him. But before you can find the truth, you had to take chances.

The first couple of minutes were silent on Mulberry's part, but Reincarnation never stopped talking since the cockney agreed. With his eyes pinned upon the crystal, the blonde had begun to pace around the target of his aim; oblivious to the fact that he was constantly side-stepping and swaying unevenly on his feet.

"Okay," said the blonde, his absent minded tone back in full, lazy force. "Let's see if we can look past all the sin nonsense and focus entirely on the soul's personality. Failing that, we gonna have to cheat and take a look at the memories. Feelings and emotions are great ways of judging a soul, but I doubt this mortal has nothing more than the standard emo rubbish."

After a few seconds of silence, Reincarnation began to talk again. If it was to Mulberry or himself, no one could really tell. "Damn, even looking at the memories is hard. There are so many of them and I doubt they actually belong to this mortal. There's no possible way he could've be born over a hundred times. Some of these jumbled up memories do mention him...others end with him slicing a person in half. Wait, what?"

_What is an understatement, _thought Mulberry. For after managing to comb the tangle of memoires, which did indeed seem to belong to other mortals, the cockney deity managed to see snippets of the soul's owner. And they were all surreal. Some showed the original mortal having sharp, metallic claws or a long, sharp blade instead of hands. Others showed his skin morphing into thick, steal armour. But most of them showed the mortal transforming from a differently shaped person, regardless of gender, into his normal form; followed by a fist being shot through the chest that ended the one of the many memory chains. The only thing that Mulberry could gather from this confusing muddle was that soul they were examining didn't belong to a human being.

"Mr Cockney, am I the only one seeing that this mortal has shapes-shifting abilities?" Asked Reincarnation, his voice sounding even dumber than usual.

"No," replied Death, slowly.

"Well, that explains why there are so many memories of different people," stated the blonde. "Where I come from, there are these creatures that can copy a person shape. If they spend a lot of times around a person, then they can start copying their memories. But unlike them, this mortal seems to store them like Christmas lights. All tangled up in a big, flashy mess."

What Reincarnation said seemed to bug Mulberry, and he didn't know exactly why. But before he could properly think about that, he turned his attention back to the soul; while he listened to the blonde's words softly sink into his ears.

"Hold on, I think I found the soul's organic memories!" His excitement, however, was swiftly replaced by mild irritation. "For crying out loud, this is why I hate humans...and hedgehogs. When they suffer from amnesia, I always have to wade through their memories like a pool of sticky toffee. And I hate sticky toffee!"

Mulberry was about to ask what the problem was, but then decided to look and see what the problem was himself. After combing a series of disjointed memories, he soon found what Reincarnation was talking about. The memory takes place in a dark morgue, where the mortal had woken up on an autopsy table. "What's wrong with this," asked the cockney man; whose brain, from some reason, began to feel sleepy and sluggish.

"If this memory chain is right..." Said the blonde, whose voice seemed to flow through Mulberry's ears like honey. "...then this mortal was born at the age of 29 in a morgue. The memory is organic, but a normal mortal memory chain starts with images of the inside of a female's stomach. And as I follow the memory chain, it gets filled with the memories of other people.

But at least I've finally got his name. Apparently it was...Zeus?" His eyes almost went out of focus for a second out of shock, but he quickly recovered. "Wait, no, its...Alex Mercer. Still as stupid as the last name..." From up above in a podium, the lightning god growled. "...But now I can piece together this lad."

"The kid was some kind of scientist at some fancy company called Gentek where he worked on a virus called Blacklight. But he tried to run away with the virus after a military group called Blackwatch—Boy, they do luv their black, don't they—started to kill the scientist involved with the project. He gets cornered at a station, drops the virus and gets turned into cheese. He get's infected with the virus, causing him to lose his memory and gain super powers. And he's got a sister; an ex-girlfriend who backstabbed him...Wow, some of this is just totally useless!"

The cockney being thought, at first, that the anger in Reincarnation's voice was overplayed. But this thought was quickly dropped as he began to construct his question to the scouser. It was getting harder to think for some reason as his brain seemed to be getting slower and slower. Thankfully, he managed to compose his question within a short space of time, saying: "How is it useless?"

"Most of the memories are useless because they tell me nothing but facts," grumbled the blonde, his voice still managing to sound very dim witted, despite the content of his words. "For example, Mercer _thinks_ he dropped the virus on purpose because he was pissed off at Blackwatch. This does tell me that he is a sociopath, since he didn't give a hoot about the safety of the city, but so do all of his other memories. But he got this information from another person's memory. He doesn't _know _why he himself dropped it on purpose. And that is the subtle difference between knowing something and thinking something. Anyone can say 'I think he did it for this reason' but only a person who did the act can say 'I know I did this for this reason'. And Mercer doesn't know jack squat about himself."

"Sure, he knows he's a killer, monster or whatever you like to call a blatant T1 1000 rip off. But without a full grasp of his past, Alex doesn't know why he never felt disturbed after what he thinks is his first kill. Why he felt so protective of Dana and why he spared her near the end of his life; locking her away when he could have just simply killed her. And most importantly of all, he doesn't know anything about himself that remotely ties him to humanity. Sure, humans and creatures in general are selfish and imperfect, but that's the only interesting part of their measly lives. How they react to their imperfection for better or for worse. Without his own, organic findings of his past memories; Alex can't see the subtle joy of imperfection and sees fit to try and ruin it with trying to perfect all life."

As these words fell easily upon the ears of the Gods, who regarded them as the ramblings of a fool, they seemed to slowly scrape through the processing thoughts of Mulberry; as if Reincarnation's words were buffering his mind. This was because the cockney being saw underlying weight under the blonde's heavy accented rambles, something the other Gods could not clearly see. But they didn't have the power to see into the crystal, the cloudy instrument that was now easier to use because of the information that was dripped in from the scouser's yellow lips.

Mulberry could now see why Alex Mercer was so hard to read, along with the over abundance of sin and saturation of inorganic memories. Because Alex's organic memories were based around confusion, unquestioning acceptance and the lack of human emotion.

At the start of the chain of memories, when he woke up in a morgue, Alex felt nothing but bewilderment and uncertainty. He had received superhuman powers without his knowing, and without any memory of his past life, and he had been marked for death by an enemy he had forgotten. As he tried to find out who he was, he was told about relationships and events he had no memory of. He finds out he has a sister, though remembers nothing about her. He finds out he has a girlfriend, though doesn't have any fond memories of her. He discovers that he himself had unleashed the virus that was killing his city, but doesn't remember what his original motives were for doing so.

But since Alex was told this, he accepted them as fact. He accepted that a girl named Dana was his sister, though he never remembered the things that made Dana consider him a brother more than flesh and blood. He accepted that he had a girlfriend, though he doesn't know what sparked their relationship and how much it must have hurt his girlfriend to backstab her lover. He accepted that he unleashed the virus, knew what he did was morally wrong. But he never looked to discover any deeper reasons for his actions, what made him do such a terrible thing.

This acceptance of the 'truth' was a bitter pill for Alex to swallow, though he only discovered the truth by looking at the facts and emotions that were built from the memories of others. Alex never truly discovered his own past that went deeper than his actions as an adult. He didn't remember where he learnt his views on life, his reasons and motives for such views and everything that builds a person when he is young.

When Alex did try and create his own views on life, they were made from harsh facts and bad experiences. According to his memories, after he saved his city from a nuclear bomb and stunted the virus outbreak he unleashed, he travelled the world with his new powers and tried to see where he belonged in his world. But this led to him judging humanity with foul taste, as he saw selfishness and greed in every person he saw.

But it was like what Reincarnation said; these imperfections didn't mean that humanity is bad. Imperfection is a part of humanity and every being that has ever existed. Learning from flaws or indulging in them defines people as who they are. But since Alex only examines facts and has no emotional memory of his own humanity, this caused him to try and 'improve' humans.

Going back to the very city he saved, he unleashed the very same virus with the intention of creating a higher, perfect life form. He intended to stamp out humans and replace them with beings that were all connected and controlled by one mind, removing all the things that define humanity. Luckily, this plan back fired on him when he tried to control the emotions of a man named James Heller; a solider whose wife had been killed by Alex. This resulted in James, using the same powers that Alex had given him, to destroy Mercer to save his daughter.

Taking a deep sigh, Mulberry shook his round face slowly; trying to keep his mind from crumbling under the weight of information he had been given. _Gosh, _thought the cockney man, solemnly. _I didn't expect to have such a head strainer of _a first _day as Death. Sure, I expected an ear full from the other Gods, but this scouser and his soul has just been one big roller coaster._

He looked down at the said blonde, who was still gazing into the crystal while blissfully unaware of his bad footwork. _This bloke's motives are so unclear I'm not quite sure he has one. Why does he want this soul? It's pretty unbalanced and is clearly destined to some religion's hell...Wait..._

Amidst the slowly decreasing thinking power that had appeared after the first few sentences of Reincarnation's speech, something in Mulberry's mind clicked. Managing to draw some energy back into his brain, the cockney being snapped his head in the scouser's direction and asked, suspiciously, "Reincarnation, you said that you were looking for an atheist who believed in Reincarnation."

"Yes?" Came the absentminded reply from the blonde, while he kept his mismatched eyes on the crystal.

"Then why did you pick this mortal's soul, when his memories don't mention anything about his beliefs? In fact..." Mulberry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "...You should have technically known that because you can examine souls without this crystal. Why did you say that he believed in you when there's no evidence suggesting it?"

Reincarnation pulled his eyes away from the crystal, causing them to point in opposite directions again. Stopping in his footsteps, the blonde showed no worry at the revelation of this fact. With a casual shrug, he answered by saying, "I guessed he believed in me because of how calmly he accepted death before he got done in by that Heller lad. Should've seen him; spouting a one-liner like Arnold Schwarzenegger."

"That's not enough to justify your rights to his soul," shot the cockney with another attempt at a professional tone to fit his position as Death. "His memories don't yield any light on anything but his sins. I seem to have no choice but to cast this soul into Limbo."

Every God who heard these words were filled with a teeming sense of triumph that they tried to suppress with sever difficulty. Even the Buddha, who didn't take part in the pillaging of atheist souls, felt a small smile curl at the ends of his lips. Having been tired of the sense of unbalanced authority that both Mulberry and Reincarnation had created, both having been sent by the 'big cheese', it was satisfying that they could at least get a small benefit from the fact that the blonde was being denied the soul he had obviously craved for.

Speaking of the scouser, his disjointed eyes seemed to be quivering with suppressed annoyance at the news. Though there was no trace of overwhelming anger, just a slight irritation; his stitched smile seemed to become more noticeably fake. While trying to aim one of his unimpressed eyes in Mulberry's direction; the blonde slowly began to speak; his dumb undertone overshadowed by firm dismay. "Oi, Mr Cockney, don't you remember me saying that I was looking for a soul so I could test my new powers with. You know, the soul that you are trying to bin like a pair of busted plums?"

Before Mulberry could reply, Odin did it for him; laughing scathingly at the weirdly dressed blonde. "You heard Death, you have no claim to the soul for there is no proof that this mortal believed in any God. Furthermore, you acquired the soul like a demon! You should be punished for such a heinous crime!"

"Says a God who uses demons to steal the souls for him," replied Reincarnation in a crisp tone. "In fact, don't all God have little minions that take the souls of mortals? Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you have Valkyries that took the souls of mortals off battlefields straight to your heaven without consulting Death?"Odin scowled, his one eye burning with anger, but did not respond. "So I'm the one who should be punished when I find the soul myself and present it to Death to see if I can have it? I think a word called hypocrite fits this situation."

An instantaneous spout of movement followed these words, as many deities shifted uncomfortably in their podiums. These reactions where noticed out of the corner of Mulberry's eyes, leading him to silently agreeing to the hypocrisy of Odin's comment. But still...

"Be that as it may," began Death, while trying to keep his round and cheery face passive. "Alex's soul still doesn't belong to any religion—"

"So why can't I claim ownership of it?" Challenged the blonde, his tone still a mix with determination and absentmindedness. "I found the soul, I helped you examine the soul and if I get ownership of the soul, I intend to give it another chance at life. Since we can't gauge his whole existence, it'd be unfair to send the poor lad to Limbo like an unfinished dish being sent to the bin."

There was no denying Reincarnation's point. Though the mortal had lived a sinful life, the idea that he could live another life gave him a chance to make up for the wrongs he had committed in his previous life. Moreover, the mortal would be given a clean slate as he would essentially live a different life. Better that than wasting away in Limbo, where his soul would be left untouched for the rest of time (or so Mulberry thought).

But for reasons that were unknown to Mulberry, the other Gods were filled with horror. The prospect that they would lose the chance of adding another soul to their hells, especially to a deity that had irked them from the start, was unbearable. So much so that Zeus, out of panic, suddenly cried out, "No! Don't let him have it!"

Automatically, both Mulberry and Reincarnation turned to Zeus with questioning looks (even though the scouser's eyes weren't aimed properly as usual). "What's with the drama," queried the cockney being.

In an attempt to recover, Zeus began to spout out anything that came to mind. "T-the soul doesn't belong to any religion...I-It needs to be placed in Limbo..." Then, in a burst of desperation, he violently slammed his fist and roared, "THE IDIOT CAN'T EVEN SEE PROPERLY! HOW CAN HE BE CONSIDERED A GOD!?"

The silence that followed was tense, as Zeus panted silently away with sweat dropping down his forehead. Reincarnation crossed his arms, his stitched smile looking the fakest it has ever been while his eyes gleamed with distaste. "Listen, you scatty cunt," growled the blonde, who had no trace of idiocy in his voice now. "I know that the soul doesn't belong to a religion, that's why I'm asking for it. And like I said, why waste a soul that can't be fully examined by putting it in Limbo. However, excuse me if I misheard, but did I just hear you question my position as a God? Because: One, how could I have entered this courtroom, you dumb nob'ead, if I wasn't a deity? Two, if my eyes are so bad how can I be able to see into souls with precise detail? And finally, this is coming from a God whose religion has been stunted by the actions of some self-righteous Jew? You, ever since then, have been reduced to a whiny kid waiting for his mommy to buy him a new piece of Lego; so you can add it to your collection and show it off to your fellow snot-nosed brats like it actual means a damn."

These venomous words shook the feelings of every deity in the room, who were all too stunned by the abstract of truth oozing from the blonde's statement to lash back in anger and denial. Even Zeus felt the pride and anguish drain out of him, replaced by an unsuppressed feeling of melancholy. And as this began to seep into most of the other Gods; Reincarnation's stitched smile seemed to become actually genuine for some apparent reason, as he then added, in his old, dumb sounding voice. "Anyway, why does it matter to you so much that the soul should go to Limbo? It's not like it can benefit you in any way..."

From sadness to fear, that was how the emotions of the Gods changed after hearing those words. Guilty looks shined from many faces, something that Mulberry managed to pick up. While he was still a little taken aback by how much the scouser's words had affect the Gods, he was suspicious of why no God had answered that last question; like they were afraid to answer it.

When Mulberry tried to think up a logical reason to this reaction, he was interrupted when he heard the blonde's voice again. "Like I was saying before the interruption," trawled Reincarnation with his naive-sounding voice; as he tried to centre his eyes in their sockets to focus on Death. "Could I please have this mortal's soul? I really want to test my new position with one, measly soul and I think it's a waste to chuck this particular one into Limbo. Hell..." His stitched smile widened, his yellow lips stretching into thin slits.

"...For all I know, I might be able to make a believer out of him."

It took Mulberry ten seconds to give his reply, and every moment of it was a harsh, unrelenting battle in his mind. One part of his conscious sided with Reincarnation, that he had more than earned the right to the ownership of one soul. But the rest of his senses were screaming otherwise, that the blonde must not be given anything less than a crumb of bread. Ever since he had arrived, the cockney being had sensed that the scouser was hiding secrets and true his senses had been. But even now they screamed foul play, while that one ounce of being that spoke with Reincarnation's voice was telling him that there was no harm in being lenient this one time; that the cross-eyed god had told all he had kept hidden and now deserved the fruits of his labour.

_If the big cheese created him, _thought the single fragment that was on the blonde's side. _Then who's to question his judgement? He made father Death, despite being a low class Grim Reaper. And it's only one soul and nothing more..._

For a single second, Mulberry's senses faulted in their assault as they tried to combat this strand of thought. And that second tipped the scales that had been balanced for these nine past seconds. Without even constructing the sentence properly in his mind, the words tumbled out the cockney's mouth like an inevitable landslide. "Fine, you can have the soul."

Reincarnation's eyes seemed to glisten with happiness; his blue eye shinning like a sapphire while his amber one glowed like shined oak. "That's boss," he cried in a genuinely excited voice that was accompanied by natural slow witted undertone. "I can't wait to take it home to my dimension!"

It took a few seconds for those words to sink in for Mulberry, which the blonde spent turning on his heels and clumsily striding to the Weight of Justice. And when the scouser reached into his bizarre suit for the soul catcher, some things said a while ago drifted in from Mulberry's memory:

_...they always do this no matter what form I'm in_..._ I thought my form sucked..._Big Cheese..._he pulled me outta some cloud formations...Where I come from...I can't wait to take it home to my dimension..._

It was like someone had throw off the veil that had been clouding Mulberry's thoughts since he had let Reincarnation voice wash over him while they examined Alex Mercer's soul. With the lag and drowsiness gone, all of his senses now screamed at him the warning bells he had been blissfully ignoring.

"Wait!" Shouted the cockney in desperation, as he began to clamber off his podium into the centre of the courtroom.

But his efforts where in vain.

Just as he managed to raise one leg over the edge of the podium's side; Reincarnation, whose stitched smile turned into a fully fleshed smirk, pulled out the stopper of his soul catcher. The moment the cork had been lifted out of its place, the crystal surface of the Weight of Justice suddenly began to crack. And the cracks grew and grew, sprawling across the surface of the red crystal like wild fire; until every inch of it was scarred. The clouds of sin began to seep from the crystal, escaping its containment like a leaking gas main, but that was not all that followed. As the red vapours slowly tried to escape, a screaming began to fill the court room. A screaming that did not belong to one soul, but to a thousand souls.

As the Gods suddenly realised the foul intent of the scouser, Mulberry landed at the base of his podium. His eyes aimed at Reincarnation, he tried to charge at the blonde fiend. But before he could move so much as a muscle, one of Reincarnation's eyes slide towards the cockney's direction. And the last thing he heard, whispered from the electric lipped mouth of the scouser, was:

"Bell End..."

And then the Weight of Justice, the crystal made thousands of years ago to contain the un-judged mortal souls, shattered into a thousand pieces. The explosion of souls and their combined sins and emotions burst out from the ruined crystal, yielding the brute force of a nuclear bomb. Mulberry was blasted back into the base of his podium, his immortality the only thing keeping his spine from shattering into dust. His eyes were blinded by the storm of red sin, mixed in with the colours of emotions that had been hidden by Alex's tainted soul, and the screams of the mortals almost caused his ears to burst into flames. He could not tell how long the ordeal lasted, as every one of his senses felt the punishment for not preventing their master from allowing this catastrophe.

All he knew, when his eyes regained their sight and his ears regained their hearing, was that he was almost buried under a pile of sharp, colourless shards of crystal. And that in the place where Reincarnation had stood was a single, solitary bubble.

And as his pain ridden eyes stared at the sphere of water, it began to float towards the ceiling of the courtroom. It past many podiums as it rose into the air, where many wounded Gods lay crippled and helpless. The cockney's sight stayed on the bubble until it reached the highest point of the courtroom's ceiling. It did not pop; rather it passed through the solid surface that hung over the courtroom.

There it went into the great unknown, leaving Mulberry to contend with his sad and hopeless future.


	2. Prologue part 2: A Thief's Living Room

_**A Mare's Flu**_

_**Prologue part 2: A Thief's Living Room**_

Somewhere within the borders of time and space was a room. A single, solitary room that seemed to have been pulled out of an existing building and left to survive on its own. It was not located in an empty clearing, a hostile swamp or even in a set of icy mountains where the cold discouraged wanderers from coming near. It existed in its own pocket of reality, far from the eyes of mortals and Gods alike, yet it still had a triangular shaped window that allowed light from a non-existent star to pierce through the yellow panes of glass.

At this moment of time, strands of artificial moonlight shone through the window to illuminate a wide, polka dot sofa that rested against the wall underneath the panes of glass. The walls of the room where all made of blue marble that seemed to sparkle like fresh tears without the need of light. The ceiling, however, looked like it was made from countless layers of bubble wrap, though in actuality it was made from shattered glass; each glass shaped bubble looking ready to pop into fragments. And don't get me started on the floor itself. It had no rug or carpet. Instead, it was literally a collection of burning rock and magma, the kind that you could find spilling out of an active volcano. But despite how brightly the lava burnt, not a single fragment of heat or smoke rose from the floor, like it was trapped within the very surface of the floor. This was why the sofa wasn't catching fire, the reason why the polka dot design was not covered in soot.

Besides the sofa, the rest of the furniture looked normal...And if you really believed what I just typed, then I apologise for not making my sarcasm more apparent. Because every piece of furniture looked like they were stolen from different time periods and were introduced to an artist who was colour blind. There was a desk that looked like it was from ancient Japan, the wood and texture having the same charm as a Sakura tree. And like the blossoms of a Sakura tree, it was cherry pink. That wouldn't be so bad...If it didn't clash with the book case set above it, which looked like a stolen luggage compartment from an aeroplane that was painted with in a checker pattern. The strangest part of this mockery of a study desk was the anomaly in the middle of the pink desk. It was a funnel shaped hole, like the charity boxes where you drop in a coin that goes around and around on the sides until it spins into the hole at the bottom. But if you looked underneath the desk, there was no funnel shaped dip or hole to be found.

This 'study desk' was placed against the wall that was directly adjacent to the wall where the window and the sofa, that spanned the entire length of the wall, were located. The wall that was located south of the previous two walls didn't have a window or a desk. Instead, it had a metal table top, coloured leaf green, which spawned out of the marble wall until it reached the centre of the room. The table top had no legs to support its weight or the weight of the many items scattered across it. But what seemingly prevented the table from snapping off the wall was— I'm not joking— a steady fountain of white sand that was gushing out of the magma rock floor. And like everything else it was ignoring the basic rules of physics, since the sand didn't bounce off the table's underside in multiple directions. No, it somehow managed to disappear after contact; like the sand was on a never ending loop that started from the hole in the floor and ended at the table's underside.

If that hasn't angered a Physicist that may be reading this, then the sight of the copious amount of objects most certainly will. To name a few: an empty Victorian styled wardrobe, a drinking cabinet that was full of baskets of fresh fruit, twenty Irish fiddles and an armchair that was used to stack large piles of pickle jars. Like I said, people, only to name a few...

Anyway, on the last marble wall was a single door. Yes, the door was made out of highly coloured origami paper. I can accept this. What I can't accept is that the door's handle looks like it has been made out of lemon jelly beans. The surface of it is hard and firm, but the centre that lay underneath the sweet smelling surface was just simply jelly. How someone could have such a thing and not eat it the moment they received it is mind boggling to me.

But speaking of that someone, the paper thin door suddenly flew open. Striding under the door frame, his yellow lipped mouth shaped in its forced smile, was Reincarnation. His blue and amber eyes still pointing in different directions, the blonde haired scouser seemed ecstatic as he walked across the magma floor towards his polka dot sofa. As he got closer, the deity felt a sudden urge to jump onto his sofa; which he complied with no questions. Sailing through the air, giggling like a school girl, Reincarnation landed head first on the sofa, flipped, and then landed comfortably with one leg crossed over the other.

Still laughing, the scouser clutched his sides as tears of mirth began to drip down his wide cheek bones. "I...can't believe..." he gasped between laughter, his voice still sounding very absentminded. "...that...that Mulberry fellow would...be so... Stupid!" His guffaws of laughter quickly subsided, as he began to straighten out the back of his long, blonde hair. "Seriously though, I thought it would take more than that to blind his senses. I was worried that he had seen through me, unlike the other nob'eads that calls themselves Gods. But I only needed to add a little more effort and I got what I wanted..." The blonde, with no sense of urgency, pulled out his small red bottle that was officially called a soul catcher. "...And I'm guessing that yews lot want to know how I did it."

The scouser repositioned his leg properly on the floor and tried to aim his eyes at the shattered glass ceiling, though they instead aimed themselves at the table and the desk. He sighed, shaking his head and muttering, "For crying out loud, will these eyes work for one second..." After smacking his temples a few times, his wacky eyes soon spun towards their respective corners. This allowed the blonde to see his own image in the shards of broken glass. He saw his snake skinned and monkey furred suit, his phoenix trouser and his green-shell patterned tank top; but most of all he saw his own human-shaped face and it's stitched like smile. "Boy, I look horrible..." he mumbled, his naive tone filled with distain. "...But I'm cute compared to most of yews!"

"Yes, I'm talking to yew lot. The ones peeking at me through your computers and phones. I noticed you in the courtroom amidst the other ugly mugs, and I must ask yews all: Do you have nothing better to do than perv on the Gods and me? No? Well then..." He stood up from the sofa, his smile extending in a dark, sinister way...before collapsing back down, shaking his head in mild amusement. "...I can't do jack squat about it. Carry on, yew nosy tykes. But if you're around when I'm getting dressed...Wait..." He suddenly slapped himself in the forehead. "These clothes are actually my skin. Never mind, keep perving away."

Turning his sight away from the ceiling, while his eyes spun out of control, he aimed his face at the soul catcher he had in his right hand. "I suppose that yews lot would like a detailed explanation of what I did at the courtroom." He bit his lip and began thinking deeply...for about two seconds. "Sure, why the buck not," he shrugged. "I'll show yews all. But first—TARDY!"

His sudden outcry reverberated off the marble walls, earning no answer than the silent stream of sand that was still holding the table up. After a few seconds, Reincarnation made an exasperated sound and was about to shout again when a cracking sound appeared out of nowhere. Some of the magma floor that wasn't underneath the green, suspended table was beginning to crack, the cracks forming a very large circle. Then, the cracks began to slowly move upwards out of the floor. As they grew taller and taller, the cracks of magma started to lose their blackened quality and started to turn pale and fleshy. In no time at all, the cracks slowly evolved into a tall woman that stood where the cracks had originated from.

She had very pale skin that seemed to have a ripple-like glowing effect, like her skin was flashing like the rising and falling sun. She had golden hair, and I _mean_ golden hair, that was propped up into a bun with a black, metal hair pin. She wore a dark blue dress that seemed to have a flaky texture, kind of like poorly crafted wood, but it still looked graceful on her. But the most interesting thing about this woman was her eyes. Her huge, void like eyes that pulsated with different colours; blue, green, purple and the list goes on. But another remarkable thing about them was how old and wearied they seemed. Like they had seen thousands and thousands of years, resulting in a stare that was full with wisdom, hardship and stature.

In short, a human (or other species) would find this woman quite damn sexy. But as you all can guess, Reincarnation didn't believe the word sexy and human belong in the same sentence. Without trying to hide his feeling of revulsion, the scouser grimaced; his lips quivering like they belonged to a sick man. "Yuck, Tardy, I thought I told yew to stop posing in that form. Just turn back to normal, like I told you."

Tardy didn't reply, her colour alternating eyes still staring at the blonde without a single change or flicker of recognition.

Reincarnation sighed, his eyes trying to make a sarcastic roll towards the ceiling; which ended up as a roll to the floor. "I see. Trying to gouge my eyes out with such a disgusting image, eh? Well good luck with that. If I can stand seeing all these mugs at once..." He gestured towards the ceiling, pointing to beings that were faraway; their eyes focused on their brightly lit screens. "...I can cope with a single mute being whose owner I dumped into the Void like a broken china doll."

Tardy didn't reply or move from her spot and her shinning skin didn't tighten with any kind of emotion. But for a fraction of a second, her constant gaze faulted as her eyes slumped with momentarily despair and humiliation. And even though she recovered so quickly that it almost seemed like it had never happened, Reincarnation's yellow-lipped smile widened into a knowing smirk. "Now..." said the blonde; his absent minded under-toned voice reeking of twisted satisfaction. "...Be a good girl and fetch me a pickle jar."

Without a single word, the golden haired woman turned her eyes away from Reincarnation and began to walk slowly towards the leaf green table. Despite being tasked with the job of a servant, Tardy's posture was strong and dignified, not wanting to give any more satisfaction to the blonde scouser.

"Rrriiiggghttt..." drawled the said blonde as he lazily pushed himself off the sofa, after pocketing the soul catcher back in his suit. "...I think I promised yews lot an explanation of how all life in the cosmos was created." Now on his feet, the scouser began brushing off dust from his suit's snake skinned shoulders. "But I lied. I'm just gonna tell yews lot how I managed to steal thousands of souls from under Death's very own nose. Not quite as interesting, but I think it deserves a tiny mention." With his eyes still pointing in different directions, Reincarnation turned his head towards his pink desk and began to casually (and clumsily) walk across the magma floor.

"From the very start, I knew that it would be too easy..." Began the scouser; his tone, though prideful, still managed to retain its absent minded quality. "...Actually, I knew that it was going to be ruddy difficult. For you see, despite all the years I've lived in yew's irritating universe, I've never thought of trying to steal souls from Death's court. It was only recently that I even pondered on the possibility. At first I was like 'Oh, what if the Big Cheese tries to stop me after I manage to steal the souls?' So I did the logical and most moral thing to do. I went looking for the Big Cheese and when I found him—after an excruciating long search, might I add— I simply asked him: 'Can I have a Job?' And do you know what I learnt from his benevolent reply?"

He halted as he drew up to the edge of his pink desk; his face suddenly became serious; causing his stitched lips to merge together like a thin, yellow line. "...The Big Cheese...is a Yorkshire man." He shook his head, trying to keep back a laugh that was violently trying to break through his sternly-positioned lips. "Yes...*Snort* the big lion of the Gods is a flat-capped farmer." The blonde, who couldn't resist any more, released his lips and let out a bellow of laughter. After the tidal wave of mirth, the scouser wiped a tear from one of his unfocused eyes. "...But seriously, how does that make sense? How can he bang a woman and end up with a Jewish son?" He paused for a second, his next sentence on the tip of his tongue, when his eyes sparked with realisation. "Hold on, I'm being a hypocrite here. I was born with..."

Reincarnation stopped abruptly, his train of thought having been diverted back to his original topic. After shaking his head vigorously, the scouser continued to explain the main events to the disembodied ears. "Anyhow, after I told the Big Cheese..." He snickered one last time. "...That I wanted to be Reincarnation of the atheists to save their souls from limbo *snort*, the old goat agreed and gave me the official position. After that, everything else was smooth sailing. All I needed then was..."

He stopped again, this time because he felt a hard stare pierce the back of his suit. Turning around, his eyes pointing in the wrong directions, he saw that Tardy had retrieved one of the pickle jars that had been stacked on the armchair on the green table.

His yellow-lipped smile widening, Reincarnation reached out for the pickle jar in the mute lady's hand; muttering a hasty and dim sounding reply of thanks. She didn't resist as the jar was prized out of her fingers, nor did she protest when the blonde turned back to the desk and began removing the jar's lid; like he had completely forgotten about her. Tardy just continued to gaze at the scouser's back; her old, colour alternating eyes never blinked once. Her eyes was still plastered upon Reincarnation as she began to sink into the magma floor, her body cracking up into the same blackened material she had immerged from, until she had completely reunited in her obvious prison.

Meanwhile, the blonde was placing the open pickle jar upon the desk; right near the edge of the funnel shaped hole that was in the middle of the Sakura coloured wood. He then pulled out the soul catcher again, his eyes now suddenly spinning around and around in their sockets. "Don't any of yews lot make a sound," whispered the scouser; as he gently placed his finger tips around the bottle's stopper. When nothing replied, Reincarnation began to slowly ease the stopper out.

At once, the smell and sound of sin and misery filled the room; reverberating off the marble, magma and glass walls. It was amazing how all the souls didn't just burst out from the bottle, firing like a cannon blast that could destroy the very foundations of Reincarnation's room. But with a firm hold on the stopper, the blonde managed to keep the tumult of souls at bay; while his eyes continued to spin round and round in circles. Finally, both the blue and amber eye centred; both irises aimed at the soul catcher with precise accuracy.

With careful fingers and sharp eyes, the blonde continued to slowly ease the stopper out of the soul catcher; while the stink and sounds of the souls became more and more present and pungent. It was quite a while before Reincarnation managed to create a tiny gap between the stopper and the opening of the soul catcher. Biting his teeth, he then began to tip the soul catcher over the open pickle jar; making sure that the small opening was positioned directly at the jar so a single soul could drip out. And after a few, painstakingly tense seconds, a single red coloured image began to leak out of the soul catcher. The blonde waited until every inch of the soul's image was out of the jar before slamming the stopper back into place.

Laughing with triumph, Reincarnation threw the soul catcher into the air widely. He then shot on hand for the pickle jar's lid that was lying on the desk and the other for the handle of the white and black bookcase that mimicked a luggage compartment. Simultaneously, he picked up the pickle jar's lid and managed to slap it back onto its rightful place and opened the checker patterned bookcase. He then spun around, planted his hand onto the edge of the pink desk and pushed himself off the floor. With the momentum of this action, he managed to kick the soul catcher before it crashed onto the magma floor. Spinning through the air, the soul catcher spun towards the open bookcase and, for a second, looked like it was about to collide with the back panel of the bookcase. But instead, it landed perfectly inside the bookcase; which was followed by Reincarnation casually sliding the bookcase's door shut.

"That was a good home run," cheered the blonde, as he titled his head down at the pickle jar. "Or was it a goal? Oh well, doesn't matter, I still managed to..." His sentence trailed off, as his focused eyes continued to gaze at the pickle jar; not having left it since he had put that single soul into the glass container.

The glass of the pickle jar had turned blood red, just like the Weight of Justice except that it wasn't as deep a crimson colour. This allowed an easier look at the image amongst the haze of sin, the image of the mortal to whom the soul belonged: the image of Alex Mercer.

His skin was pale as the moon, though it did look deceivingly darker against the red clouds of sin that floated inside the pickle jar. But the wisps of crimson didn't hide the dark rings that lined around Alex's light grey eyes, hinting that he looked just as dead when he was alive. His face was mostly hidden by his grey hoody, which hid a white buttoned shirt underneath while a jet black jacket covered most of the hoody. His last item of clothing was a pair of dirty, blue jeans; completing Alex's image of a dark and mysterious punk.

You would expect Reincarnation, who has made it perfectly clear that he saw humans as grotesque and unattractive beings, to wear a look of revolution as he starred at Mercer's soul. But his permanent smile seemed to have twisted with some kind of craved lust, the kind that perverts had when they saw the perfect embodiment of their erotic fantasies.

"...Pour out this sexy beast." Muttered the blonde, who finished his previous statement with an aroused purr. He then moved his left hand towards the pickle jar with one finger extended, and began stroking the jar's glass rim like he was tracing his fingertip down the leg of his lover.

"Hmm...No, not entirely a sexy beast. He still has his disgusting human form like yew nosy lot..." He retracted his finger, while both of his eyes remained focused on the pickle jar. "...But like any experienced courtesan, it's the skills that bring the points. And this mortal has so many wonderful skills. Particularly his ability to consume the bodies of other mortals, along with their souls."

"And this was the last thing I required. A soul that was laden with the souls of others, all tangled up in one big unreadable mess. At first, I figured I had to collect a large number of souls and smash them together like a bad mosaic. But thanks to rare luck, I found Alex here; who was unaware that his soul was being crushed under the weight of all he killed. I didn't even have to destroy him myself. I just had to sneak in while Alex's murderer, Heller, laid his last blow, stealing Mercer's soul away before it could merge with Heller's soul."

Reincarnation let a small chuckle escape his yellow lips, as his memory conjured an image of Death's Court, of all the God's faces as they fell for his fake persona and of Mulberry; who had been the only challenge to the blonde's plan. "Armed with the Big Cheese's permission and Alex's soul, it was a cake walk when I entered the court. Despite that cockney idiot being a few shades smarter than the other Gods, I still managed to get him to put Alex's soul into the weight of justice. Or rather Alex's soul, plus the souls of all the people he has consumed."

"For you see, folks, because I managed to get Alex's soul and all the souls that were linked to his in the Weight of Justice—" His smug, though naive sounding speech was interrupted; as he violently sneezed. As his head jerked backwards from the force of the reflex, little bubbles began shooting out of the scouser's nose. They didn't last long, as the all popped upon the surface of the pink desk, so after wiping the end of his nose, Reincarnation finished his sentence. "...When Mulberry gave me the permission to take out _only_ Alex's soul, I also pulled out all of the souls that were merged with his. Because the Weight of Justice followed Mulberry's word, it didn't expect multiple souls to force its way out at once. The force of this caused the Weight of Justice to explode, allowing more souls than I could imagine to break free. After capturing them all, I discovered that I stole the souls of all the mortals who died in the past week. Usually there would be a small number of souls, but all the violent events that accrued tripled the usual death rate."

"So I've got a load of souls to play around with..." He paused for a second, his blue and amber eyes briefly glinting with anticipated glee. "...And I bet yews alls are wondering: 'What is he gonna do with all these souls?" The blonde raised his hands in a 'Isn't it obvious' gesture'. "What else? Reincarnate them! What else could I do with them? Pawn them off to demonic beings? Eat them like popcorn? Do yews take me as some low class demon? I am..!"

He stopped himself, his stitched smile growing wider like he had thought of a private joke. "Good question," he pondered, his voice sounding more absent minded than ever. "What am I? Or who am I? Well...

...

...

"...I'm Reincarnation, and if you don't mind, I want to treat my first customer! So either keep quite or buck off!" The scouser's face screwed up in confusion, thinking about his latter statement and realising his own idiocy. "They can't speak," muttered the blonde. "Their miles and miles away. There's no way for them to badger me or feed me their own views..."

Chuckling to himself, Reincarnation—who had never take his eyes off the pickle jar for all this time—turned his nose towards the location of Alex's soul. "Now," whispered the scouser aloud, "Let's see if I can crack into you're past memories, Mercer. They may be locked to you, but my eyes are good at spying things that creatures have forgotten or hidden. Who knows, you might have a cheerful life and your hatred for other people might just be a result of your stupid memory loss."

Falling silent, Reincarnation continued to glare at Alex's soul; now peering past the image of his human form and into the obscure parts of his mind and soul. It took a long time for the blonde to find the lost chain of memory, for he had not been kidding about an amnesiac's mind being like a pool of sticky toffee. And despite having to wade through the distasteful gunk, it seems that the scouser had stuck gold. His stitched smile seemed to grow larger and larger, losing its forced quality and replacing it with genuine pleasure. "Hmm...Not quite what I thought it'd be. You really are a sociopathic loner, but there are some things beside your work that you truly care about. And how you became so cold yet so caring...especially your childhood..." He licked his lips; his nose twitching hungrily like it was waiting for a grand banquet.

"But a job's a job," sighed Reincarnation with clear resentment. "Now I've got to decide where to start your new life. I know I need to put you in a place where you won't repeat your past...But it's a shame that I have to lock your memories up again...I would even have to confiscate your powers...Such a shame..."

The blonde's eyes, which were still glued upon Alex's soul, glinted as a thought ran through his mind. "I could allow you to keep your powers," he began slowly; his yellow smile curling into a crafty grin. "And I could also allow you to keep your memory. In fact, for being such a great help to me, I won't change a thing about you!" His face lit up with great excitement...Before reverting to a frown. "Wait, not everything. You're not keeping that human form; it would be a disservice to leave you looking so ugly."

Nodding to himself in self agreement, Reincarnation raised his hands and reached towards the pickle jar. Before he touched the glass, however, his fingers and palms began to lose their solid form. Everything from his fingertips to his wrists was turned from flesh into bubbles. With his soapy-shaped fingers, he continued to move his hands towards the jar. When they touched the glass, amazingly, they pass through.

"Now..." mused the blonde, as his fingertips hovered a centimetre from Alex's soul. "...Where should I send yew after I'm finished? Not your world, of course, and not any world that has disgusting apes like yew...Aha!" His smile, if possible, stretched even further than before. "I'll send yew to my old sweet home!" The blonde face suddenly became strained as he laughed raucously, fighting the urge to bend over in fear of breaking the pickle jar.

After he managed to recover, he took a deep sigh and focused his attention back to Alex's soul. "Okay, so I know what form I need to fashion for yew. But... Sorry to be a killjoy, I can't let you lose in my home world with all yew powers...yet. In yew current mental state, yew'd probably waste every pony yew meet. And that would be too boring to watch. So I'm gonna lock most of your powers. Even...Yes, even yew power to consume people."

"But don't fret! I'm gonna improve that ability! Not that it isn't the funniest power I've seen in my long, long life time. Who doesn't find secretly consuming a man's wife, taking her form and then staging a fake suicide before the husband? But my upgrade will improve the potential hijinx you can cause. And that's even before the memories of yew past drips in." Reincarnation gave one last smile, a smile full of anticipated enjoyment, before his bubble shaped fingers connected with Alex's soul.

For the next hour or two, the scouser stood in front of the sakura coloured table; his morphed hands working away on Mercer's soul. With his eagle like eyes that have been lazy when not put to work, the blonde carefully tweaked the very fabric of the mortal's soul, mind and body. He hadn't blinked once since the moment he started, only when he finally retracted his bubble hands from the jar. He looked down at his finished masterpiece, his eyes glinting with the satisfaction an artist had after finishing his lifetimes work. Then, after his long appreciative pause, Reincarnation's sea blue and amber eyes promptly went out of focus and pointed themselves at the ceiling and the floor.

"Right," he cheerfully began, his voice now regaining its naive tone. "I think it's time for yew..." He continued, as he reached out his hand (which had turned back to flesh) for the pickle jar. "...To go out on your new legs and lead your new life!" As his stitched smile became wooden once more, the scouser picked up the jar and moved it until it was suspended in the air above the funnel shaped hole that was embedded in the middle of the desk.

The blonde paused before he sent Alex's soul to his home universe, his face reflecting his contemplation of all the work he had spent on this one soul. But his mind was fully obscure to us humans, thus his motives and reasoning's were lost in a sea of questions and puzzles. So for the time being, as the pickle jar fell from the scouser's fingers, Reincarnation's true intentions where as unpredictable as his personality.

All we can speculate about, as the pickle jar fell down the funnel shaped hole—which, I remind you, does not exit out the bottom of the desk—are Reincarnation's last words; which were:

"Damn, I forgot his cutie mark!"


	3. Chapter 1: Awake ye Stallion

_**A Mare's Flu**_

_**Chapter 1: Awake ye Stallion **_

_Welcome to the top of the food chain..._

Those were the words that Alex Mercer had smugly uttered before his face was smashed into a pulp by the one he had created. James Heller, his thoughts clouded by his rage and pitiful concerns about his daughter, could never have realised that his maker, the one who had infected him, had no qualms about his own demise.

Mercer knew that he and Heller were beyond life and death - the things that bound humans to their selfish existence. Mercer knew that Heller, one day, would finally see the greed and stagnation that he sees; the slow, rotting death of 'humanity'. So Mercer knew that no matter what happened to him, Heller would take up the mantle that he had been too blind to see before.

The only reason why Alex had fought Heller, attempting to consume the angry black man before he consumed him, was twofold. The first was to test Heller's strength, to see if he had the power to fulfil the destiny he would soon succumb to. The second, and main reason, was because Alex didn't want to lose to some short-sighted, tourette's-suffering idiot without a fight. He went so far as keeping the daughter alive, after seeing that her unique genetics were invaluable , to piss off Heller even further.

_Why..._thought Alex; as he recalled locking Heller's daughter _and _his sister, Dana, in a secure vault. _...Why didn't I just kill Dana? She was no further use to me. I should have just killed her there and then. But why didn't I? _

That was not the only question that floated into his mind, the sea of queries beginning to pile up on one another. The main one, the biggest one that had the most relevance and motive for an answer, was...

_What is it that poking my back?_

_Wait...I have a back! _

And as that realisation began to sink in, Alex Mercer suddenly became conscious of the pleasant warmth that was trying to pry his eyelids open; while slowly grooming the rest of his body like a delicate masseur.

Confused and bewildered, Mercer quickly opened his eyes; which were greeted enthusiastically by a bright beam of sunlight. Dazzled for a moment by the unexpected light, Alex's eyes soon saw the little hole where the sunbeam had pierced the green clumps of foliage; which were built and enforced by a giant number of long, thickly leafed tree branches.

Blinking up at the canopy of leaves, Mercer's highly evolved senses started to kick in and pick up other things, like the faint sound of a stream that seemed close by and the feeling of the dry, hard soil that he seemed to be lying on. But most importantly of all, Alex realised that he, somehow, was still al... No, existing; not alive. For his heart, bones and every other organ was just a reconstruction of viral biomass; rendering the heart and lungs useless. Yet somehow, someway, the small spark of his consciousness had continued to exist without latching itself to his killer.

_How this can be, _thought Mercer as he continued to lie on his back; his eyes scanning the world around him. _How did I get from a roof top in New York to a forest clearing? Why wasn't my consciousness consumed? Why—_

His thoughts then suddenly ground to a halt, as his eyes lay upon a shocking sight. With his vision now parallel to the ground, Alex had a clear view of his...limbs? His petrified mind seemed to be stuck on this query, as his limbs seemed...different. I could list all of the reasons why he was perturbed, but it all comes down to one word...

Hooves

"**Argh!**" Cried Mercer breathlessly, as he finally reacted to what he saw. Out of reflex, he tried to leap to his feet. But when he landed onto his two bottom limbs, Alex immediately lost his balance and began to fall forwards. Still working on instinct, he stretched out his top limbs to stop himself smacking face first into the grass. This tactic worked at first, his hooves hitting the ground firmly. But when he realised that he had used hooves, not hands, his limbs buckled once more and his face ended up kissing the grass any way.

Raising his head, and after shaking off the blades of grass that had clung to his face, Mercer began to dart his eyes around the forest clearing. _This can't be happening, _his mind panicky mumbled. _I need to look at myself, to see what is wrong with my body. _Despite his panicked state, his ears quickly picked up the distant sound of the running water he had heard before. _A stream, _thought the man. _That will serve my needs. _

He looked down at the legs he was now sitting on, whilst trying to ignore what they looked like. Grinding his teeth in determination, Alex set his sights towards the place where the sounds of rushing water was coming from and began attempting to move. At first he tried to pull himself across the ground, but he scrapped that plan when he remembered that he somehow had hooves. Mercer resorted to trying to walk on all fours. It was an awkward process at first, as he constantly lost his footing and balance; his face reuniting with the forest clearing's floor several times.

But after a seemingly long time, Alex slowly managed to keep up a steady walk that took him past the trees that lined the edge of the forest's clearing. Now his problem was visibility, as the tree foliage above him began to become thick and tangled; blocking all streams of light from touching the floor of Alex's path.

_This won't be a problem, _though Mercer calmly and confidently. _I'll just activate my thermal vision. _Smirking to himself with the prospect of being able to take control of his situation, he closed his eyes and began to call upon one of his powers. But to his dismay, his eyes did not flare with heat like they should do and when he opened them he saw only the shadows that masked his vision. Irritated, he closed his eyes, whilst screwing up his face in concentration, and tried again, his body now moving by itself amongst the shadowy tree stumps.

_Come on, _growled his thoughts as his eyes still refused to burn, to activate his thermal vision. _Why isn't it working?_ _Have my powers been affected as well as my appearance? Wait, maybe..._

Alex, who seemed to have forgotten about the world around him, began to access a certain part of his mind. With his eyes closed, images that were created within that area began to project onto his eye lids. In his mind's eye, he began to see a sprawling collection of red, spiky nerves. Mercer called this the 'Web of Intrigue', as he originally used it as a tool to un-spin the mystery of his identity. It allowed him to access the memories of the people he had consumed, each represented by a pulsating, crimson cell that was just as spiky as the nerves that linked all the cells together.

By the looks of it, the Web of Intrigue seemed to have remained intact as none of the cells had vanished. But out of caution, Alex began to skim through the memories of the people he had slaughtered; all as he continued to walk blindly into the dark forest.

He watched through the eyes of one of his victims, a Caucasian solider, and experienced the memory of the solider trying to gun down Alex himself. He then relived the memory of a female doctor, felt the tear roll down her cheeks as she watched her lover slam the door in her face. Alex even experienced a memory that contained two scientists he had actual worked with. What the memory entailed was too shocking and embarrassing to mention. Let's just say one of the scientists had been a very naughty boy.

Throughout his exploration of his memory banks, Mercer started to notice a subtle difference. The memories of those he had killed seemed to be playing on the low quality setting of a YouTube video. The visuals seemed to be distorted slightly and the sounds of happiness and sadness seemed to come from a distant plain of existence. Alex was a sociopathic creature and had never connected emotionally with the memories he had reaped from his victims. But for some reason, they seemed more distant than ever.

_It's like all of the emotion has been drained out_, thought Alex as he continued to search through the web. _All I have left are the facts and events. There are no screams of terror in their dying moments, no cries of laughter or joy in their pathetic moments of happiness. This is definitely an improvement, but how is this possible—What?_

His train of thought quickly changed tracks as Mercer noticed an anomaly amongst the crowd of nerves. Sticking out in the middle of the Web of Intrigue was a giant, black and spike-less memory nerve. The only reason Alex had missed it before was because if blended into the black backdrop of his mind. Curious, Mercer tried to access this new nerve. But strangely, he could not get past the black skin that encased the memories he had never seen.

_Come on, _growled his thoughts as he tried to mentally break into the humongous noir cell. _Argh, come on! _He pushed further and further, his face in the real world starting to grind his teeth in frustration. _Come on...COME _

_**SPLASH!**_

Like a startled lion, Alex mentally jumped out his skin and back into the real world; his eyes shooting open with the force of a bullet. The moment his vision became clear, the man saw a pair of grey eyes shine underneath a cloak of darkness. Instinctively, the bio weapon extended one of his free limbs and plunged it into the stranger's face.

Upon contact, the strange face erupted into a fountain of droplets that splattered over Mercer's face. However, after a few moments when Alex tried to rub the liquid off his face, the face returned again; who seemed to be rubbing his face with a hoof...

It took a few minutes for Alex to lower his...hoof to the ground; his abnormal feature now positioned on the stream's damp bank. He glared into the body of water he had tried to assault and began to take in the bizarre truth his senses were presenting him.

His bone grey eyes were embedded above a furry muzzle, which was pointing out from under a grey hoody. Though the hood had remained unchanged, his scruffy, unbuttoned white shirt and jet black jacket had been warped slightly to fit his altered body. Inside of the sleeves of his garments were two strong and muscular legs that ended on a pair of hoofs. And after staring at his fetlocks for a long, long time, Mercer turned his body to the right to examine the rest of him; his mind still petrified by what he was seeing. For his clothes didn't hide the back end of his body, where you could clearly see the noir fur that covers his blank flank. And to put the final nail into Alex's coffin of bewilderment and horror was that he had acquired a small, brown and spiky tail.

It felt like an eternity for Alex as he stared at his own reflection, his mind frozen in complete shock at the sight of his four legged body. He had seen many strange and gory things and none of that had ever fazed him. He had even got over the fact that, due to the consumption of many females, he could appreciate the male body. But now, now that he was an equine, Mercer was utterly speechless.

Finally, after shaking his muzzle softly, words fell out of the man—err—stallion's lips like a leaf falling of a tree in autumn. "...What the buck..."

The black equid's face formed a frown. He had meant to say the F word, but somehow that had gotten lost on the way to his lips. Still recovering from the shock, Alex decided to try again. "Buck." He grunted. "Buck. Buck!" He took a deep breath, though he really didn't need it, and tried to change his tactics.

"Bucking hey!" He raised the muscle area where an eyebrow should be, deciding whether to applaud the irony. In the end, his final decision was to unleash a flurry of swear words. "Muddy hey, bucking shrimp, shrimpy buck...ARGH, BUCKING HORSE!? HORSE SHRIMP!?BISsum?"

"...Really? Bissum? That's surprisingly...British..."

Mercer clicked his tongue angrily, remembering that he had more important problems than censored cursing. Like how he had been turned into a four legged animal and transported away from the rooftops of Manhattan.

As he began to step away from the water, accidently tripping over his hoofs as he did so, Mercer heard a growl from across the stream. Focusing his eyes onto the clump of trees that lay across the body of liquid, the black stallion saw two sets of acid green eyes loom from the dark shades.

Prowling out of the undergrowth came two wolves. Their bodies seemed to be made from twisted bark and twigs, bound together by knotted grass and chains of leaves. Even their teeth and claws looked like sharpened stakes carved from blackened trees. The only part of them that didn't look like it had grown out of the ground was their eyes, which were gleaming with savage hunger as saliva oozed out of their quivering jaws.

A normal person would at least feel fear or shock at the sight of two predators. But Alex wasn't a normal person. He was a damn horse. _How the hell am I supposed to fight as a horse? _

That question would have to be answered swiftly, as one of the wooden wolves leapt from the thickets and began to pound across the shallow stream. And once it reached the equine's shore, who was still trying to figure out a way of defending himself, the predator pounced; teeth bearing down upon Mercer's black, furry neck.

But those jaws snapped onto thin air, as the wolf landed on the same patch of dirt that the black stallion had been standing on. Growling in confusion, the predator spun around, determined to find its prey. Its snout quivering, the Timber Wolf quickly found the scent of the hooded horse. However, its feral brain had trouble comprehending the fact that the scent's trail was heading up—

_**SMASH!**_

The wolf's bark laced head jerked towards the ground, as a single hoof crashed down onto the beast's skull. Alex Mercer, having managed to pull off a four-legged jump that catapulted him into the air like a loose Jack in the box, had extended his right fore-front leg as he plummeted back towards the ground. Not only did the previous action prove that he still had his enhanced agility, but the evidence that was about to be shown said the same about his strength.

The force of the blow alone cracked the top of the wolf's cranium, but the moment it collided with the ground, its entire skull shattered into a gory mess of bone and brain matter. The blood stained ground was also given physical damage rather than a stain on the landscape, as the stallion's hoof managed to dig a few centimetres into the earth.

Though the proof that not all of his powers were lost was soothing to the hooded equine, he had no time to celebrate as he fell onto his back; due to the trouble of balancing on one bloody hoof. Also, it is hard to think positive thoughts when a wooden wolf leaps onto of you; pinning you down while snarling at your exposed face.

Without hesitation, Alex slammed his muzzle into the predator's face. Crying in pain, the leaf-laced wolf was forced onto its hind legs; its front paws covering its bruised snout. Thanks to his inhuman—err...in...Equine reflexes and strength, the stallion swiftly pushed the top half of his body forwards along with his already blood stained hoof. He extended his soaked front leg, right at the wolf's exposed stomach.

The beast's green eyes quickly died as the surface of its wooden coat was broken around its gut area. Its life blood, which was surprisingly red, was gushing out onto the black stallion; flecks of it staining his grey hood. Alex, who had bathed in more blood than anyone could imagine, was only perturbed by the fact that the wolf's body wasn't being pulled into his own via black, reddish tentacles.

_...It seems that my power to consume has also been taken from me, _pondered Mercer as he rolled back onto all fours. _This probably means..._ He closed his eyes and began accessing the Web of Intrigue, searching for a random strain of memories. After selecting one of a middle aged woman, the stallion tried to transform into the tall, blonde female. But after a few solid minutes of silence, Mercer remained in his equine state; covered in fresh blood.

Briefly checking if there were more wolves in the area, Alex trotted to the steam and looked back into the water; his bone grey eyes staring coldly at his own reflection while questions drifted around in his mind. Where am I? What has happened to my body and my powers? What should I do now?

While trying to conjure an answer to those questions, the black stallion dipped his bloody hoody into the stream and clumsy began to wash himself. Usually when he consumed a person or changed shape, the tentacles that emerge from his body whisked away the gore and signs of death. In the case of him meeting civilised life, it was best not to scare them away on sight; though a talking, cloth-wearing equine would be terrifying with or without the blood stains.

"I don't know where I am," muttered Mercer as he finished wiping off the last droplets of blood on his hoof. "And I can't use my powers to get information stealthily, only via brute force. Though I highly doubt anything can pose a real threat to me, it's best to get my bearings and understand my surroundings..."

He paused as he tried to manually lower his hood, due to realization that it was stuck in place. The memory of his last attempt to lower his hood, back when he was of ape descent, drifted in on schedule to remind the man that it was unmovable, just a part of his body of biomass.

Releasing a resigned sigh, Mercer traipsed into the shallow stream. He roughly fell onto his backside, sitting in the middle of the slow currents of the water. It was a shock to the stallion that he could feel the cold that was riding along the waves of the steam, though it still caused very little physical reaction. After registering that quaint feature, Alex resentfully began to roll around in the water; the blood on his clothes slowly seeping away into the currents. It took a long time for the stains to vanish, so long that the blood had been swept away, leaving the water back to its original colour.

As the stallion trotted out of the stream, furiously spitting out mouthfuls of water, Mercer began to continue his train of thought. "...Once I have a suitable bearing on my location, I can then plan my next move." With a goal set in his mind, the smirking stallion began to shake off the water with some dignity (though that was quickly erased when he took a quick glance at his short, brown tail.)

With that, Alex Mercer walked back into the shade of the trees; not knowing the adventures and craziness that was awaiting him.

* * *

_...This is...interesting..._

By interesting, Mercer meant a complete and unrelenting assault on his senses, logic and most of all anchors to sanity. The first test against these traits had been the discovery that he had been turned into a clothed equine. Somehow, the biological man had managed to accept this. He couldn't find a logical or sensible reason why it had happened, but he could role with it. Just another strange event in his existence.

But! Alex Mercer, despite not being a normal human or a horse, was still a sensible person; despite the fact that death never really fazed him. It took him awhile to buy the whole 'zombie virus' that he himself caused and the powers that the same virus gave him. So surreal events shouldn't shock him, right? Not after all he had been through, right?

He had to remind himself of that after he left the forest, his hooves trotting along the road that had guided him out into the open light of day. The first thing he had noticed was that wherever he was, as it was clearly not New York, it was strangely beautiful. Though such a remark severed no purpose in helping Alex, the sight of the lush, deep green blades of grass that covered the land and hills in the distance, peppered with fresh trees and thick, colourful bushes of flowers was truly a marvellous spectacle.

But like I said, Mercer cared little for what it looked like and only kept the knowledge that he was in the countryside. He treated it like he had treated his home; he ignored all superfluous information and only accepted the facts. Or at least that's how he remembers it...What did he think of New York, his birth cradle and his grave?

But such a thought was never brought up, as he noticed another thing about his surroundings. He had been following the road for a short time before he noticed that he was passing a small cottage. The black stallion's grey eyes trailed up the side path that branched off the road, which included a bridge that crossed a little stream that ran in front of the cottage. The building reminded him of Bag End from Lord of the Rings as the roof was made out of some sort of vegetation. He guessed it was tree leaves as there were several bird houses of different shapes and sizes nesting on the roof. There was even a post near the cottage's that had the largest bird house Alex had ever seen. And to cap it off, the front door looked like a stable door, the kind use to keep horses trapped while allowing them to stick their head out.

This did make Mercer pause out of bewilderment, perplexed that anyone would even consider making a building that looked like someone had stuffed a tree into a turtle's shell. But he quickly got over this, guessing that this was just something they did in the countryside. In fact, after he noticed that there seemed to be a pen in the cottage's backyard, he guessed that whoever owned it must be some kind of hippy farmer. And farmers usually have ties to the nearest populated settlement, i.e. places of information. And though Alex was now a clothed horse, something more terrifying than his human form, what stopped him from storming the cottage to find the answers he needed? A farmer who lived in the countryside, probably all alone and high like the hippy he probably was, would be missed by few.

With a sense of achievement and a small smirk, the black equine began to walk down the cottage's path; a plan of action forming in his head. But before he took four steps, the third and final sight appeared which caused him to question his reality. He already had some trouble coming to terms that he had been somehow teleported from Manhattan, that most of his powers had been taken from him and that he had become a horse. But what he saw next left him completely gobsmacked.

The cottage door suddenly swung open, the sound of the creaking hinges carrying through the quite air. Alex stopped just as quickly, his eyes aiming at the place where his prey would emerge. He leaned forward, his hooves pressing firmly into the ground like a tiger preparing to spring onto an antelope, waiting for the hippy farmer to appear. And she sure did.

It was her long, pink mane that drifted out into the open air first, like silk flying into the breeze. This was followed by a pair of big, cyan eyes that was topped off with big, black eyelashes. Then as her front set of hooves touched the ground outside her doorstep, her set of wings became visible to the black stallion's baffled eyes. Mercer was so taken aback that he almost didn't register the pattern of three butterflies with pink wings. For he may have seen twisted monstrosities, and created a few himself, but he never, in his life, expected to see a yellow...Pegasus...

And that is where he is now, standing stock still on the road to the cottage of a Pegasus with his mouth hanging slightly open. Mercer's consciousness had retreated to the Web of Intrigue, scouring the memories of all he had consumed to find information that suggested that PEGASI REALLY EXISTED! And all he found was recollection of some cheap, poorly animated cartoons that ranged from girly nonsense to creepy ass babies. _What...How..._mumbled the mind of the stallion as he finished combing the memories of his female victims.

While Alex had his mental breakdown, the yellow Pegasus was slowly making her way down the path. Her cyan eyes soon found the black, hooded stranger and did what any per-err-pony would do. Squeak like a mouse and hurry away...What? But don't worry; she soon managed to get a hold of herself. Well...it took her awhile to start edging towards the clothed equine...and even longer to get into whispering range...

Gulping, the Pegasus quietly whispered to Mercer, saying softly, "Umm, excuse me. Are you okay, sir?"

Luckily, these words managed to reach Alex's ears, pulling him from the cesspool of confusion that was currently his mind. His grey eyes blinked rapidly for a short while before the focused on the mare in front of him, who was lowering her head out of pure embarrassment. Mercer himself felt taken aback, his mind still trying to comprehend the existence of talking pegasi, but he managed to come up with a reply. "No, I'm okay, ma'am. Just-umm-looking for directions to the nearest...settlement."

The stallion's nervous and disjointed reply seemed to help the yellow Pegasus feel less threatened, his inner shock somehow worse than her own timid nature. She braved a smile and raised her head. "Oh, that would be Ponyville. You just need to follow the road and keep to the main path."

_Ponyville, _echoed the stallion's baffled mind. _What kind of a name is that? Does that mean there are more horses, or ponies, that can talk, wear clothes and live in houses? If that's the case, how come this one isn't wearing clothes? And are they all Pegasi, or are there__different kinds of horses? GAH!? _

Mercer's winced as his brain started to throb under the tumult of questions his mind was churning out. The female equine noticed this and was immediately worried. "Oh my, are you okay?" She moved closer, even gaining the courage to raise one of her front leg, slip her hoof under the stallion's hood and pressed it against his temple. Alex violently shrugged away from her attempts to see if he was healthy, causing her to almost loose her balance. "I'm sorry," apologised the Pegasus. "I should have asked your permission first." The black stallion grunted in reply and turned his back to the Pegasus. "Wait," cried the Pegasus with the force of a falling napkin.

The hooded equine turned his head around, his cold, bone grey eyes unnerving the mare who had just tried to help him. "What is it?" He replied in an irritated tone.

"Umm-I..." She took a deep breath before trying to speak again. "I'm sorry about invading your personal space. I just wanted to check if you were ill..." Her voice trailed off, her spoken words being whisked away by the silent breeze.

Alex Mercer looked at the shy Pegasus, his face blank and unreadable. He then turned his head away again and began to walk back onto the main road. The pink haired pony/horse lowered her head out a shame, upset that she had upset a total stranger—

"Don't apologise."

Her head gently rose once more, as the black stallion's voice reached her ears. He was still walking away, but his last remark was almost as clear as if he was standing next to her.

"But thank you for the directions."

And with that, Alex Mercer continued on his way; preparing for the greatest assault of his sanity as he headed for the place known...as Ponyville.

* * *

Somewhere in another dimension, Reincarnation was sitting on his polka dot sofa. His amber and sea blue eyes were fixed upon a book that was in his hand. It was a very thin book with a yellow spine. The title 'Parallel World Finding and Parking' was written elegantly with emerald ink...which was starting to melt of the front cover.

"Sweet lemon grass," cried the blonde haired man, as he threw his book, which was leaking profusely, onto the magma stone floor. His face was aimed down at the running book, though his eyes were spinning in all directions until they both stopped. With the sea blue eye aimed at a blue-marble wall and the amber at the pink desk, the scouser's stitched smile twitched.

"Oh, its yew lot again," said Reincarnation in his usual, absent minded tone; though you could see a tick forming on his exposed forehead. "I thought yews had gone after I sent Alex to Equestria." He began smacking his temples to straighten his eyes, muttering, "Great, the only book I have on Parallel worlds is enchanted to spew its ink when mortals are aware of its presence. If those humans keep barging in on me, I might have to start buying comic books...unless they've been rebooted since the last time I've read them..."

His eyes were soon centred and the blonde began looking up at his ceiling. "Great, nice to see yew mugs are just as ugly as last time." He folded his furry brown sleeved arms. "Now explain to me why yews are barging in my room. Yew are not my parents and yew teenagers shouldn't be hypocrites." While still sitting down, Reincarnation began tapping his foot as he continued to stare upwards.

...

"...What, no answer?"

...

...

"Fine! Be that way! I'll...I'll..."

The constantly smiling creature scratched his head, pondering on what to do. He pulls his eyes away from the ceiling and, while keeping them centred, began looking around his own room for inspiration. His mismatched eyes were trailing over his pink desk when a thought popped in his head.

"I know," he cried in a somewhat triumphant voice that was bogged down by his normal tone. "I'll check up on all the souls I've reincarnated. You will all probably become bored after I check out that one politician's soul I reincarnated in Minnesota. I'm hoping he becomes a soccer mom...though that isn't really a stretch from before."

The blonde rolled his sea blue eye, which kept on rolling and rolling in its socket. It quickly picked up tremendous speed, the blue iris becoming an unseen blur. Reincarnation, who was not at all perturbed that one of his eyes was breaking the speed limit, opened his right palm. Instantaneously, a large, clear bubble began to form in his hand. Once it was big enough, the scouser carelessly slammed the bubble into his spinning right eye; followed by a loud squelch.

"Haven't done this in awhile," commented the blonde as if nothing had happened. "But I want a beast view of my handy work. Staring down from above would just be scatty." He then leaned back on his sofa, his right hand still glued to his face.

"...Okay...Ah! There he is, that magnificent beast. I must say, I did a class job on his new body. And if my eye isn't mistaken (though it probably is), he appeared in the Everfree Forest! Sweet Alics, it still looks the same; dark, menacing and completely anti-social."

Reincarnation's stitched smile didn't move an inch as he chuckled softly. It did twitched when the blonde began to howl in laughter, banging his free fist on the polka dot sofa. "Ha, ha! Oh, I knew his freak out would be just pure gold. Took longer than I thought it would, seeing as he managed to hold up until he saw his reflection, but the look on his face—Ha! He looks like a Timber wolf managed to sneak up and bite his tail...Oh...Timberwolves..."

His stitched smile fell back into its fixed position, the joke having been cut short by confusion and disappointment. "Mercer managed to defend himself quite well," remarked the blonde in his absentminded tone. "I can still see that he is concerned about how his power is limited, but he adjusted himself too quickly. How boring. And since when did Timberwolves bleed?"

He didn't answer his own question, letting his silence compete against the white sand geyser that was lifting the green table off the floor. It was like this for awhile, until a chuckle escaped his mouth once more.

"Heh, he can take the fact that he has become a pony but not that there are biddie Pegasi. For a human that was hell bent on genetic perfection, he sure has mixed up priorities."

With a disgruntled sigh, Reincarnation pulled his hand away from his right eye; extracting the bubble with another noisy squelch. "Wow, that was boring," exclaimed the scouser; as his sea blue eye rolled back into sight. He looked down at the bubble, his eyes unnaturally fixated upon the small sphere with a flame of anger dancing behind the irises. The blonde clenched the bubble, which refused to break through cracks started to crawl all over it surface.

But then his fingers suddenly relaxed, the anger that had raised its head vanishing quickly. "Now, now," muttered Reincarnation; his voice hovering between absentmindedness and...Something else. "Patience, that's what I need. I've waited longer than this for more important things..."

And with one last chuckle, the blonde's eyes spun away from the bubble. As they did so, the soapy sphere suddenly began to glow; gleaming like a huge sapphire.

"There's no need..." whispered the scouser with his dumbfounded voice. "To be..."

"...Sad..."

And with that, the bubble lost its form and began to drip out of Reincarnation's hand; dripping onto the magma floor like they came from the tears of a child.


	4. Chapter 2: Meet the Six Part 1

_**A Mare's Flu**_

_**Chapter 2: Meet the Six Part 1**_

_...How does this exist? _

That was the question that was circulating through Alex Mercer's mind as he slowly trotted down a street in this bizarre village, this Ponyville. At first he couldn't find the right words to convey the reaction this village had on him, as he had to process the many factors that kept popping up like Rinkas.

The first, which he took note when he first saw the village from afar, was that most of the houses, or cottages, were timber-framed, had thatched roofs and overhanging upper floors. The aesthetic look was irrelevant to Mercer, meaning he didn't care if it looked good or bad. What was important was that this style of housing was outdated, at it clearly had ties to medieval European architecture. Seeing it as the dominant theme, without a trace of modern inspiration, raised many questions.

This didn't change as he continued his approach. Past a bridge that went over a river, which seemed to run around the town, was a large, circular building that had a tall, pointed roof with blue flags that were peppered around the base of the tiles. Adjacent to the building was a small water fountain with a statue of a pony/horse/whatever equine species that were walking around and talking...

Alex stopped, his second mind meltdown finally disabling the systematic walk he had taken up since he had entered the town. He looked down at the oddly greenish ground, which must be a mixture of low cut grass and pebbles, and asked again: How does this town and its inhabitants exist?

_How can horses create buildings, they have no hands? How come these horses can talk, but others can't? How can this remain outside of the public knowledge? How am I a horse-ARGH! _

He raised his left hoof and rubbed his head through his grey hood. Mercer was totally confused and overwhelmed. The only time he had felt like this was after he woke up in the morgue, when he knew nothing about the world he had just awakened in. At least there was no military group trying to kill him...Actually, he wished that would happen. Black Watch forced him to react and survive; they served as Intel and information that filled his blank memories. But even if such a group does exist, he had somehow lost a number of his powers, including his ability to consume. Without that, he had to find information manually. But where could he start?

Lowering his hoof and straightening his head, his grey eyes quickly spied a gathering further up the street. He could see three creatures, two of equine shape while the other seemed to be a lizard of some kind. Deciding that he should try and communicate with them instead of bumbling around like an idiot, Alex walked towards the trio, hoping that he would collect relevant data.

As he got close to them, he heard a loud gasp of breath, the kind you make when you discover that EA actually published a good game (a long ass time ago). Before he could tell where the sound came from, a pink blur suddenly shot over Alex's head with the speed of a bullet. He turned around with his own enhanced speed, but the blur still managed to fly out of sight.

_What the hey was that, _thought the hooded pony as he turned back to his destination; another mystery added to the stockpile. It was quickly chucked off when he did this, as it was clear that one of the horses had gone. But before he could ask another question beginning with 'how', his mind was tested once more.

The two remaining creatures had also turned to spy the blur and they were both now fully in Alex's field of vision. But only one of them drew his eye, the remaining equine. It was easy to tell that it was a female; her violet, eye-lashed eyes were the big give away. Even though she had a light purple fur and blue-purple mane and tail that both shared a streak of indigo purple that was borderline pink...actually, that was another give away.  
Now, a purple furred horse was strange; especially one with a star shaped tattoo on its flank. But what startled Mercer was that, sticking out of her mane from her fore-head was a horn.

She...was...a...unicorn...

It took a lot in the black equine to stop his mind from flat-lining again. Though it didn't stop him from staring at the creature, a creature that should not existence; along with Pegasi. This caused the purple horse to shuffle back a few steps, intimidated by the gaze of the hooded stranger.

The creature next to her, a small, purple scaled and green spiked lizard-thing that stood on two feet, was the opposite. Raising both of his four-fingered hands in a welcoming gesture, the green eyes of the creature gazed up at Alex with relief glistening in them. "Look, Twi, there's another pony you can talk too! He might have something interesting to say."

The purple unicorn, looking doubtful, hesitated a bit before giving an uncomfortable, "...Hello?"

Alex, whose mind was still recovering, managed to let slip a blunt, "Hi..." Then there was a small pause, in which the hooded stallion finally managed to stop staring at the unicorn's horn.

The purple lizard rolled his eyes and muttered, in a hushed manor, "Great, instead of strange ponies we meet shy ones." He cleared his throat and addressed the black stallion with a friendly tone, asking, "So, what's your name, sir?"

Mercer was about to conjure up a reply, but suddenly the Web of Intrigue appeared before his mind's eye. Before he could even react to the unprepared sight of the web, a vision sprang from an unknown source, a memory of an unknown person. It was very quick and past by in a second, but Alex could still register the face that had been shown and he definitely recognised the voice he heard, his own voice, saying-

"I'm Doctor Alex Mercer," reverberated the stallion, the echo of his memory slipping from his tongue.

"Doctor Alex Mercer?" Asked the purple unicorn curiously, while the lizard snorted. "So, you work at Ponyville's Hospital?"

"No," replied the black pony; his voice sounding calm and collected. "I'm not from around here. I was wondering around the countryside, looking for the nearest settlement. And what's so funny?" He directed this at the purple lizard, who was still chortling.

"Ha, your name is Alex Mercer?" Choked the lizard as he tried to speak. "What kind of name is Alex Mercer?"

"Spike..." muttered the unicorn, while she glared at her companion with disapproval. She turned her violet eyes to Alex and tilted her head in apology. "I'm sorry for my assistant's rudeness. My name is Twilight Sparkle, apprentice of Princess—" She stopped, as she clearly saw Mercer let out a small, low chuckle. "What's so funny," asked Twilight indigently.

"Nothing," replied the grey eyed equine; a certain, flawed 'romance' novel flitting out of his mind. He lowered his eyes towards the lizard, avoiding the annoyed look from the unicorn, and asked, "So, your name is Spike, right?" Spike nodded. "Appropriate, I guess. You're the spikiest lizard I've ever seen."

Spike curled his hands and placed them on his hips, his face just as annoyed as Twilight's. "Hey, I'm a dragon, mister!"

"Aren't dragons a bit bigger than an eight year-old kid?"

"I'm a baby dragon," snarled the purple reptilian.

Before Alex could reply with a snarky comment, Twilight butted in with a question for the hooded stallion, her voice sounding a tad resentful. "So, where are you from?"

"Manhattan," was his blunt reply, as his grey eyes focused back on the unicorn.

"Huh," queried the purple equine. "Don't you mean Manehatten?"

Alex raised an eye-brow. "Err, no, it's MANhattan."

"I'm pretty sure it's MANEhatten. The 'Big Orange', right?"

"No," said Mercer as he slowly shook his head. "The Big APPLE. It's the City that never sleeps."

"Really," piped in Spike. "I heard that everypony calls it 'The City that Always sleeps'."

"Oh, for crying out loud," grumbled the black stallion. "I lived in Manhattan, New York City, the capital of the state of New York in the United States of America!"

Both Spike and Twilight looked utterly confused. "What are you talking about?" Responded Spike, his face having a bemused expression. "There's no such thing as the 'United States of America'. There's the United Margh (1), but you don't sound Marghish."

"Indeed," muttered the unicorn as she looked inquisitively at the black stallion. "There's no place in Equestria named that...What's wrong?"

Alex, upon hearing the name of the country that he was apparently in, had jerked his head violently. _Equestria, _he thought in disgust; his face wincing as if he heard a bad joke. _As in the horse riding sport, Equestrian? _

The purple unicorn took a small step back, though more out of caution then social fear. "Are you alright?"

Mercer, realising that he was freaking out the others (figure that one out), straightened out his face and put on his natural 'no smile' face. "Sorry," stated the stallion, though it didn't sound honest at all. "By some cruel twist of fate, I am prone to amnesia. I forgot where I was travelling to and also the way back home, so I am looking for a place to find information on where I am." Inside of his now calmed mind, the virus infected equine gave a small chuckle at how naturally the lie had come to him.

Spike folded his arms, his leaf green eyes gazing at the stallion with slight disbelief. "You seem to remember a lot for a guy with amnesia, 'Doctor'."

"Amnesia," stated Alex in a 'matter of fact' tone. "Defined as the total or partial loss of memory, Spyro."

The baby dragon adopted a scowl to add to his growing distain for the black stallion. "Hey! My name is Spike-"

"Okay, you two," interrupted the unicorn once more; a slight agitation creeping into her voice that also extended to her eyes that glanced towards the other side of the street. "I'm sorry that you are suffering from amnesia," gabbled the equine in a hurried yet non-malicious manner. "But we need to get going. I'm supervising the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration and we also need to get acquainted with our lodgings."

Not wanting to raise more questions, the stallion didn't ask anything about the 'Summer Sun' celebration. Instead, he gave a slow nod. "Fine. But can you direct me to place where I can find some information? Like a library or an information centre. "

"Well, Spike and I are staying in Ponyville's library..." said Twilight as she kept her tone pleasant, while her eye twitch with impatience. "...But like I said, we need to get going. We can give you the directions if you want."

_So, these two are staying in the town library, _said Alex in his mind. _And they are supervising a festival; assumingly for the princess that they mentioned earlier. Meaning that it would take the undertaking of the entire town..._

"Actually," pondered the black horse. "Do you mind if I accompany you?"

"What?" Exclaimed Twilight in surprise.

Spike, on the other hand, raised a scaly eyebrow and quickly replied, "I don't think that's a good idea. We've got business to do and we can't worry about a guy who keeps losing his memory." These words were mostly fed by the distaste that Alex had managed to create in the four minutes he had spent with the dragon.

The hooded stallion looked down at the assistant, his face in its natural, emotionless state. "I just thought that since we are all newcomers to this town, whose journey will ultimately end in the same place, it would be an idea to get a feel of the location together." He then pursed his lips and sighed, irritably, "And I don't want to risk another memory loss around people I don't know...again."

The baby lizard could easily detect that the stallion's reasons were not of friendly intentions, but he could see that his self interest was to support a valid point. He himself couldn't imagine what it must be like to suddenly loose most of your memory, your surroundings becoming alien at the whim of your condition.

Twilight would have been swayed just as Spike...if she had been listening at all. With an impatient sigh, the unicorn just cried out, "Alright, you can come. Can we just get moving? I really need to hurry this up and get to the library."

And with that, the newly formed trio went on their way. The journey began with awkward silence, besides Spike saying that their first destination was a farm, as the two anti-social ponies trotted alongside the baby dragon. But, after remembering a certain Princess' orders, Spike tried to get conversation flowing as they approached the outer limits of the town. "So, where did you work, Doc? Or did you forget that to."

Whether that last remark was a snipe or not, Mercer decided not to answer. Keeping his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, he continued following the purple duo; mulling over the current events in his mind.

"Oh, don't be like that," lamented the baby-dragon. "We're all friends here."

The moment Spike said the word 'friends', Twilight's face cringed so fast that Alex could hear her muscles move. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that her face had taken on a look of exasperation. It was not out of disgust of the very idea of 'friends', but of an annoyance at a thing that they don't really need or care about. Something that Alex could fully well relate to.

The unicorn was about to respond to her assistant in a pleasantly perturbed tone, but Mercer cut in cold and sharp. "No, we are not friends. We are merely aquatints whose interests have aligned. We know nothing about each other that would earn this 'friends' status and nor do I wish to pursue that unnecessary niche."

Spike stopped walking, his feet resting on a gravely countryside road and was starring in shock at the hooded stallion. "Gees, there's no need to be so cynical. What's so wrong about having friends?"

"Simple," grunted Alex as he continued to walk. "Friends are not needed to achieve my aims. Allies maybe, but knowing a person's birthday isn't going to help me to get what I want. Now can we please hurry this up?"

"Yes, we shall," said Twilight in a chipper tone. Keeping her stride, the unicorn's stress seemed to have melted off her face and a sense of purpose took a firm hold. "Spike, can you get the Sumer Sun Celebration check list out. I would like to see where we are going next after the farm."

"Speaking of that," interjected the hooded stallion in a measured tone that you would use to soften a blow to your pride. "What is the Sumer Sun Celebration in aid of?"

The Unicorn kept walking, but she did almost stumble out of bewilderment. "You don't know about the Sumer Sun Celebration?"

Mercer nodded, allowing a fraction of his embracement to appear on his face to sell his act. Pretending to have forgotten information due to his 'amnesia' would keep his cover low, but he always despised being seen as a complete buffoon...Or at least he thought he always did. He couldn't really remember the life he had before waking up in the morgue. But that wasn't important, now or later.

Twilight, after sighing with annoyance, began to explain. "The Summer Sun Celebration is when we celebrate our royal highness, Princess Celestia. Today is the Summer Solstice, the longest day, and we all stay up to watch her raise the sun."

_Okay, _thought the hooded-stallion. _So this Celestia can control the sun in some fashion. _"Does she do that often?"

At this, the Unicorn lost the will to speak. Luckily, Spike (armed with his check list) was at their pace and ready to comment on Alex's ignorance. "Of course she does, dummy. She does it 24/7, along with the moon as well. It's how the day changes into night." Straightening his paper, he followed up with the remark, "Are you sure you're a Doctor? Or do they let anyone into medical school these days?"

The once-human pony would have retorted in his usual, chastising manner if not for the sake of the lie he was about to lay another layer upon. "A part of a Doctor's training isn't examining the royalty of a foreign country."

"What do you mean by that," said Spike, confusedly. "Are you saying that since you're not from Equestria, you didn't know about the person who moves the very sun? Sorry, buddy, but most countries do know about—"

"Counties that you know about," slashed in Alex. "Admit it, you've never heard of the USA before. Hell, I can barely remember details of my own home country. So that's why I need to find maps and information so that I can return home. So quit picking on me that I'm from a 'primitive' country that doesn't know about your great majesty and that malarkey."

The baby dragon didn't have words to combat that statement, but in his mind he was still slightly dubious. Mostly due to how Alex seemed so...untrustworthy. He didn't know why he looked that way, though it most defiantly has something to do with how he hides his face in shadow and that his eyes seemed unnaturally cold.

Spike didn't have any more time to dwell on that however, as a high pitched voice chimed next to him, saying, "Hey, Spike. Is this the farm you mentioned?" Twilight, who seemed to be trying to distract her from the display of stupidity, pointed at what was clearly the farm.

Mercer had barely noticed the fact that the path they were on had been running alongside a long acre of apple trees. They stretched as far as the eye could see, even surrounding the barn house that was the centre of the farm. Said farm house was made of red painted timber and the roof was tinted light purple. Around the building, within the parameter of the white wooden fences, was a chicken coup, a well and several over things that a farm usually had. That was all the stallion took in when he looked at the scene before him, just the facts and none of the simplistic beauty that Spike registered.

They walked under the welcoming arch, which had a hanging sign with an apple carved into it, when—

"YEE HA!"

Even the stallion was taken off guard by the sudden, stereotypical cowboy cry. As one, the trio turned their hooves to the right to see where the sound had come from. That source was an orange furred, olive-blonde haired pony, which was running at break neck speed. She, for her voice had sounded feminine, wore a brown cowboy hat that flapped in the breeze and on her flank was a marking of three red apples.

She didn't see the new comers, for her green eyes were focused on a single apple tree that had a dozen buckets lying underneath its branches. Once she reached her destination, the mare spun on the spot in a blink of an eye. And at the same speed, she leaned on her front hooves and unleashed a powerful donkey-kick upon the tree's bark. The force was so strong that it shook all of the apples off their branches, landing perfectly in the buckets below. To cap it off, the mare crossed her right hoof with her left one to form a victorious, yet modest, pose.

While Spike seemed impressed and Twilight seemed resentful, sighing once more as if this was a waste of time, Alex had taken the display as nothing more than confirmation. _So, _he thought in a calm tone. _This must be how they get most of their food. Since ponies are herbivores, all they must eat are fruits and grass. _

As you can see, Mercer has figured out where he was. Namely, not the world he had come from. For there was no way that Unicorns, Ponies and Pegasi that could talk, build houses or use magic could remain hidden for so long. They knew not of his homeland, a country that proudly announces its presence in any way it can, and he knew not of Princess Celestia; a being that had the power to control the biggest star in the known universe.

How he got there was a whole other story.

Back in the here and now, the trio walked towards the cowgirl; the unicorn muttering, "Let's get this over with," moodily. But she quickly put on a polite smile and began to introduce herself. "Good afternoon, my name is Twilight Sparkle."

She had barely finished her sentence when the orange pony grabbed her left hoof with both of her own and began shaking it merrily. "Well howdy do, miss Twilight! Pleasure making your acquaintance. I'm Applejack..."

Alex couldn't stop his head from twitching violently. It seemed to be his knee jerk reaction to bad, unfunny puns. Luckily, it was not noticed by Applejack, who kept on shaking the Unicorn's hoof like it was a bottle of un-shaken juice, in her very southern accent.

"...We at Sweet Apple Acers sure do like making new friends."

"F-friends," said Twilight in a shaky voice; her entire face shaking with discomfort. "A-actually...I..."She trailed off, just as the orange pony stopped shaking her hoof. Though they had parted, her right leg was still shaking off the energy that Applejack had used.

As Spike helped her to calm her leg down, the hooded stallion found his own hoof being grasped firmly by the overly friendly farmer. "And what is your name, good sir?" She asked in a chipper tone. However, she quickly released the hoof and gave a small cry of surprise. "Sweet apples, that's cold!"

Mercer, his face betraying no emotion, just stared at Applejack. "Alex," he drawled in his low, blunt voice. "Alex Mercer...ma'am."

"Pleasure meet'n you," muttered the cowgirl while she scraped her hooves across the ground. She then frowned, her eyes looking at the deceivingly cold hoof that had surprised her. "No, that'd be a lie. That was mightily unpleasant. Not trying to sound prissy and all, but how are your hooves so cold during summer?"

"I don't know," lied the un-dead stallion. "Must be cold blooded or something."

"Hmm," hummed the cowgirl as she began to take in more of Mercer. His hood's layer of shadow was pierced by her eyes, his dead looking fur and hollow eyes in full display. "I say," She muttered out loud, "you look like you haven't eaten for weeks."

"Speaking of food," interjected Twilight in a polite voice. "I'm actually the supervisor for the Summer Sun celebrations. I was told that you are in charge of the food?"

"We sure as sugar are," confirmed the orange pony proudly, whilst still keeping her eye on the black stallion. "In fact, I think you and your friend should sample some before you go." They both tried to reject the offer, politely or otherwise, but she simply shook her head. "I must insist, Mister Mercer. You look like a sick dog that's been put out to die." Before Alex could respond to that comment, Applejack rushed off towards a triangle that hung from a tree near a picnic table. She picked up a metal stick with both her hooves and began ringing the triangle vigorously.

"Soups on, everypony!"

Once those words were spoken, the whole ground began to shake and a cascade of thundering hooves appeared behind them. Before the trio could say or do anything but gasp, they were swept away by the family of Applejack. Alex knew that he could break free at any time, tear away from this farce, but his knowledge was still thin. So he let himself be whisked away to a clothed table under the trees. While Twilight's and Spike's head were still reeling from the shock, Alex was quite calm and stable; sourness becoming acquainted with his face.

Popping up next to Twilight, Applejack grinned jovially. "Now," she began, "How about I introduce you to the Apple family?"

"Thanks," awkwardly mumbled Twilight. "But I really need to hurry..."

But it was no use. Nothing Twilight or Alex could've done would have stopped the first family member to step up to the table. Armed with a plate that she balanced on one hoof, she placed it onto the table while Applejack proudly pronounced, "This here is Apple Fritter..." And as she zoomed away, another pony stood up to the table. "...Apple Bumpkin, Red Gallon, Red Delius, Golden Delius, Caramel Apple..."

And that was when Alex's tolerance for bad puns finally snapped. As each family member was introduced, the pile of food grew higher and higher. Forming a small mountain of sugary fruity treats. But Mercer barely paid attention as his brain tried to process these names, these apparently legitimate names, into the serious category and not the brain dead one. It was only thanks to Applejack taking a deep breath did he hear the last three names, which were as follows, "Big McIntosh, Apple Bloom and...Granny Smith." The stallion, who was sitting next to the giant pile of food with his head hung low, coughed a forced laugh for that feeble final pun/name. He didn't even bother to see what this Granny Smith looked like.

Apparently she had been asleep, since Applejack had just shouted, "Up and at em, Granny Smith! We got guests." Still, Alex kept his head down and did not move an inch from his spot. He heard the creaks of a rocking chair and the mumbling of some old crone. But he still kept to himself.

"Why, I'd say that they're already part of the family."

To this, Alex looked up; a look of disgust on his face. They had only been here for five minutes, which was not even a decimal amount of time needed to form any kind of emotional bond. Well, besides for indifference and annoyance. And apparently discomfort, as Twilight spat out an apple she had been given and began to laugh nervously.

"Well," said the unicorn in a falsely cheery tone. "I can see the food situation is handled. So we'll be on our way." To this, Mercer turned away from the table. _Good, _he thought bitterly. _I've learnt all that I need to know; one of the main food sources for these creatures is apples and apple based sweets, who produces it in this area and the local residents have bad puns for names. _

Before he moved more than a few feet, as he was about to cut through the crowd of disappointed ponies, a quivering, soppy voice pined, "Aren't you gonna stay for brunch?"

The voice belonged to a small, yellow filly with a red mane and a pink bow. Apple Bloom, which was her name, was looking up at Twilight. Her eyes were wide with plea and her lip was quivering, the face of a begging child.

This weakened the resolve of the unicorn. She was about to try and politely explain why they needed to go, but...

"No," bluntly responded Alex Mercer. He had trotted next to Twilight and was currently leering down at the young filly; his gaze causing her to shuffle back in slight fear. After a few seconds, he lifted his gaze and looked at the purple pony. "Come on, Sparkle, we need to get going."

The crowd of ponies around them began to whisper, some looking at Alex with either surprise or resentment. They would have only been disappointed if they had been polite in their reply, but how Alex had acted towards their youngest family member made the situation a bit sour. A large, red pony moved forward to comfort Apple Bloom; who was looking uncomfortably at the hooded stallion.

"Hold on a tick," said Applejack as she moved around Twilight to face Alex. "Why'd you scare my sister like that? She was only asking if you wanted to stay and eat. Heck, you haven't even touched the food we offered you."

"We are not hungry," droned the hooded one. "These two have to supervise the summer sun celebration and last time I checked they wanted to hurry."

"Actually," piped in Spike, who had standing quietly by the table. "I think we should stay. Me and Twilight haven't eaten since breakfast. And who knows how long since you've eaten, Mercer."

Alex grunted impatiently. "Fine, you two go ahead. I'll wait over here." And with that, he began to walk over to the entrance to the farm. On the way, he walked through the Apple family crowd. They didn't stop him, but they did give him various looks of disappointment and confusion. He reached the point where the road connected to the farm and sat down, placing his hide on the dirty ground.

He looked over at the crowded table, seeing the giant pile of food slowly decreasing. He did not mourn their passing, as food was pointless to him. His cells regenerated by themselves, energy from food weren't needed. With no reason to push blood around the body, to distribute the energy or oxygen, his lungs, stomach and heart were static. And as if his infected body realised this, his taste senses died. He discovered that years ago. He was no more upset then than he was now.

What was on his mind, for some strange reason, was the face of that young filly named Apple Bloom. Or at least he thought it was Apple Bloom. That pouting face seemed familiar somehow...

"_Come on, Alex! Please!" _

"_I'm sorry, but I have to work double shift at Des'" _

"_But this is the last screening of Psycho! I heard it's really scary! Please!" _

"_Dana..."_

The Web of Intrigue suddenly closed itself, leaving a stunned Alex. It took a few seconds for him to contemplate what he had just heard and seen. _That was a memory from my own past, _thought the stallion in shock and awe. _But I already know about my past. I know everything..._But then the truth slowly shifted into view. _No, I only know what other people know about my past. I lost my memory when I died. And it's coming back. _The hooded pony considered what this could mean. He could find out the exact details of his old life, he could find out the truth...

_...The truth that I didn't kill those people? That I didn't work on a super solider virus that ended up killing all those people? That I spilt coffee on my trousers one morning? _He forced a laugh. _I already know what's important. My old life is irrelevant. What is relevant is that I'm in a land of magical ponies. And that I've lost most of my powers like Samus from Metroid- Wait. Why I am thinking about a video game character? _

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of approaching hooves and feet. He looked up at the incoming duo, the dragon carrying a small green apple in one of his claws. "You missed out," said Spike happily. "The food was great and the Apple family are really nice." Contrasting with him was Twilight, who looked harassed and a little ill. "They were a little upset that you just walked away..."

"I wasn't hungry," interrupted Alex.

"...But we just explained that you had just lost parts of your memory, so you were just a little grumpy because of that."

"Of course," said the black stallion sarcastically. "But now I'm grumpy because I just found out that you were telling people about my affliction." Two sets of eyes fell upon the assistant; one filled with annoyance while the other had the clear message of 'I told you so'.

"I'm sorry," grumbled the dragon. "But at least Applejack isn't mad at you anymore! Look, she wanted me to give you this." He held up the green apple.

"I don't really care if she's mad at me or not," snarled Mercer. He swiped at the apple with his hoof, as if he was going to wrap his fingers over it and wrench it from the dragon's claws. Luckily, in defiance of logic and physics, the apple had managed to stick to the edge of his hoof. Now supported by only one leg, he looked over at the buckets of apples from earlier. "And I-am-not...hungry!" And as he said that final word, he threw the green apple by flicking his hoof. It landed softly atop the apple, a green king that resided over its red minions.

And with that, he began to move out of the boundaries of Sweet Apple Acers, joined swiftly by Twilight. "Come on, Spike," ordered the unicorn; who was clearly uninterested in commenting on their companion's rudeness.

Spike just stood and looked at their retreating figures, anger and frustration building within him. His anger was aimed mostly at the newcomer. The frustration came from the fact that Twilight was practically siding with Mercer by ignoring his rude behaviour. _Maybe it's because she empathises with him, _thought the purple dragon, sadly. _She doesn't want to make friends either, she just wants to get to the library and follow up on her lead. Perhaps...perhaps this is a good thing? For all I know, they might become friends through the fact they don't want friends. _

He scratched his head, wandering if that would sound dumber out loud. _Well one thing's for sure,_ he continued as he began to follow Alex and Twilight.

_Mercer is one of the biggest jackasses I have ever met. _

To be continued...

(1) Margh is a Cornish word for horse. United Margh will be the United Kingdom in this story. Expect pony puns for the individual country names.


End file.
